


Where Oceans Meet

by foxmoon



Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bed & Breakfast, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/pseuds/foxmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lost souls meet by chance at a seaside bed and breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Serial ficlets of unabashed fluff and a little bit of angst. Thank you lostinfic for the beta!

Blue sky and sunshine awaited outside of Alec’s room at the Seafern Bed and Breakfast. A cool, steady breeze flowed in from the open window at his side. It soothed him, despite doing his best to not let it. He sighed. Knew damn well that it would help his mood to take a walk, but for some reason he just didn’t want to stand.

He’d been staying at the Seafern, an oceanfront Victorian country house, for a mere three days, having landed a job at the local precinct after searching for something relatively close, but not  _in_ Broadchurch. He just couldn’t deal with that place right now. Couldn’t deal with any bloody place, frankly, but nobody knew him here, and he could keep to himself as much as he liked.

Why near Broadchurch, he didn’t even know. He’d grown begrudgingly fond of being near the sea, perhaps. Something about control over his demons. It would do for now. Just as his flat had in downtown Sandbrook till recently, and the blue river chalet had before, and the Trader’s before that. He never considered himself a drifter, but he was now whether he liked it or not.

Truth be told, he was getting used to it. Used to not belonging anywhere. Or with anyone.

He lifted his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose, hating the utterly boring casework spread out before him on the ancient writing desk. This wasn’t his element. White collar horseshit and embezzlement. He wanted to help people who felt like the world had been ripped from beneath their feet. He was meant to bring closure to people’s suffering. That’s what he was good at.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He tossed his pen down and stood with a huff, hating his own pathetic train of thought.

He closed the casework and placed his glasses on the pile. Standing, he ducked through the room and under the door frame, and headed downstairs.

The husband and wife who ran the B&B were in the common room downstairs, playing cards with a couple of patrons. Hardy hurried past towards the exit before they could wave him over to join them.

As he opened the door to the covered porch, a woman approached on her way inside. She wore a white crocheted bikini top and a sarong around her hips. Her blonde hair was caught in a breeze, and she smiled at him as she lifted her overlarge sunglasses.

He froze in place, hand still holding open the door, as she walked right past him, the soft scent of perfume - or maybe suncream - definitely coconut, lingering in her wake.

He realized he’d been staring as she rounded the bannister to head upstairs, catching his eye. Face hot with embarrassment, he let go of the door and cut through the breeze toward the sandy beach.

The pounding surf quickly eased his nerves. The sound of it, that is. Still couldn’t shake how being this close to a huge, all-consuming body of water set him on edge. He didn’t look at it as he made his way down the shore.

He walked until he found a trail leading away from the beach through the marram grass. It meandered alongside the sea for a while, giving him time to stew in his thoughts. Eventually, it took him to a cluster of old homes nestled near a cliff. He turned back then, not wanting to run into anyone. He’d made that mistake before. They always wanted to invite him in for tea.

He’d lost track of time while he was out, which was sort of the point. The last glow of sunset was slipping below the horizon, and all the little creatures had begun to sing into the night.

The lights were on outside as he approached the Seafern. He looked up to the moon, and back out to the sea with his hand on the porch banister. The bed and breakfast patrons were sharing an evening meal inside. He could hear the laughter and clinking of plates. Usually he’d wait till it was over and ask for a plate to go. Tonight would be no exception.

He sighed and went to sit on the top step, when a voice halted him.

“Where did you go?”

He looked over to see the woman with blonde hair sitting on a bench by the window.

“Does it matter?”

She shrugged, unaffected by his gruff tone. “I was gonna leave today.”

He stared down the shoreline, away from her. She was trying to bait him into a conversation, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“Why are you out here?”

Shit. That was out loud. He avoided her eyes further, and looked down as he scraped wet sand from his shoes on the porch step.

“I like to wait till they’re done sometimes,” she said.

“Me too.”

She smiled, and he couldn’t look away anymore.

“Why haven’t I seen you here before?” she asked.

“I’ve only been here three days. I leave early for work.” He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know.”

She patted the bench next to her. “I’m Hannah.”

Alec clenched his jaw at the odd sort of thrill that ran through him at her invitation. It’d been far too long, but she was way, way out of his league.

“D.I. Alec Hardy.”

He said it like he was there to ask her a few questions, and cringed inwardly.

She shifted on the bench, biting her lip. “I see.”

“Erm, you said you were going to leave today?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re not.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Someone caught my eye.”

He made a sound between a scoff and a groan. “You should’ve just left.”

Hannah stood then, casually, unoffended. “Didn’t say it was you.”

“I mean—”

She headed for the door and cast him a glance over her shoulder, a little smile quirking her lips. “Looks like they’re finished. You want me to make you a plate?”

He peered inside, and saw through the sitting room to the dining area. The husband was busy cleaning up the table, and the patrons were drifting to the lounge. It gave him time to quell his nerves.

“I’ll get my own plate.”

“Suit yourself.”

She opened the door and went inside, leaving him alone on the porch. He didn’t move till he sensed her shadow passing by the window, then he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. It took a few moments for him to stop feeling like a complete wanker, and for his pulse to slow down.

When he finally went inside, she was gone. He felt relieved, and yet oddly disappointed, as he grabbed a dinner roll and retreated to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic for the beta!

Hardy left work late out of habit more than necessity. He walked past the storefronts that led away from the precinct, his shoulders bowed as though gravity affected him differently than anyone else. There were two messages on his mobile—one from Ellie and another from Tess.

“ _Alec, ring me back when you get a chance. It_ _’s important._ ”

That meant it had to do with Daisy. He listened to the next.

“ _Hey! It_ _’s Ellie. Heard you_ _’re working in Wrenmouth. Don_ _’t ask how I know. Shit, I shouldn_ _’t_ _’ve said anything. You_ _’re not gonna ring me back now, are you? Well, you should. Bye!_ _”_

He tucked his mobile into his pocket and continued on towards the Seafern, not feeling up to arguing with himself over who to phone first.

When he arrived, he drifted into the lounge—a departure from his typical routine. There wasn’t a reason for it. No need to socialize with whoever else found themselves in this obnoxious place for a finite duration of time until they’d move on forever.

Either way, she wasn’t there.

He froze at that thought, right in the middle of the threshold. He honestly hadn’t meant to look for her, but the absence of her made him want to. He could almost smell the coconut, like the ghost of her had just breezed past. What if she’d decided to leave after all?

“We don’t bite,” said one of the patrons in the lounge, a young woman, possibly nineteen or twenty, who looked like she hadn’t been home in years.

“Yeah, come join us! Was just about to put the kettle on.” Mrs. Finn, one of the owners, clasped her hands together with a smile.

“No thanks.”

He turned to leave, knowing they’d call him some insult or another.

They did.

 _‘What an arse’_  and  _'prat’_  bounced off his back as he walked away. He’d developed a kind of armor to it, which was basically to accept it as the truth, even though they didn’t know him at all.

He went upstairs to return the calls, dreading the first one. Any time Tess phoned about Daisy, and it wasn’t Daisy herself, he was reminded of his every failure as a father and a husband in the tone of her voice. He always refrained from reminding her that she had tipped the first domino.

Tess and Dave were to be married, which he’d known, but they were wasting no time in making arrangements. They needed Daisy’s old room for guests, so she’d phoned to ask if Daisy could stay with him during the wedding. He didn’t want to remind her that he barely had a place to stay himself, nor a means to drive her back and forth, so he agreed to it with a heavy sigh. Daisy would likely find a friend to stay with anyway.

Once he hung up with her, he stared at Ellie’s number in his mobile. The talk with Tess left him feeling irritable and guilty, and he didn’t want Ellie to pick up on it. And oddly enough, he didn’t want to take it out on her.

They hadn’t kept in touch since he left Broadchurch, much like the last time. However it bothered him more this time. He wasn’t one to mull over the state of friendships, but if anyone in this bloody world matched that description, it was her.

He rang her back, and her cheery voice took the edge off of his agitation. She was doing well, and he smiled a little to hear her carry on. They made plans to meet the following morning at a café, where she promised to explain things in more detail.

Sitting on the quilted bed, he loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The smell of supper wafted up from below. He considered going down to eat with the others. Talking to Ellie had improved his mood. But he wondered if he’d just make everyone uncomfortable. Aye, he’d wait, despite his growing hunger. After the usual amount of time, he headed down for a plate.

He exited his room, and across the hall, at the very same time, Hannah exited hers. His heart lept into his throat. So she was staying in the mermaid themed room—seemed apropos.

“Hello, sir,” she said, adding a slight lilt to the  _sir_  for emphasis. It could’ve been a jab, but she was smiling and her eyes were bright. A wave of hair hung over one eye and a fishtail braid over one shoulder.

“Aye,” he said, trying not to stare at her, his eyes drifting around to the tacky decorations surrounding them.

“Smells delicious, doesn’t it? They’re still eating, though. Mr. Finn made banofee pie.”

He just stood there, breathing. Really focusing on it too, since he didn’t know what to say. He’d already said ‘ _aye_ _’_  and that was a fairly stupid reply to hello, so whatever else he could say might be far more embarrassing.

She licked her lips. He nearly stopped breathing, and looked away.

“Come on, it’s not so bad. You can sit next to me and I’ll shield you from their inane questions.” She waved for him to follow as she went downstairs.

He shuffled his feet. “Not tonight. I’ve, uh… got work.”

She paused on the steps, and looked up at him. “Oh. Really?”

He nodded, and began to feel a little bashful about lying, but mostly like a great pillock just standing there whilst she sized him up. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he straighten his posture.

“Come down and relax after. Play me in chess.”

“Er… maybe.” It surprised him that she knew how to play chess, which made him feel like a bit of a bastard.

“Or I could stop by your room. Either way, I can help you relax.”

His throat went dry, and his entire vocabulary vanished from his brain.

It didn’t matter. Hannah didn’t wait for a response. She bounced down the stairs like the thought never crossed her mind that he might’ve rejected her. Or maybe she wouldn’t have cared if he had.

But he didn’t  _want_  to reject her. He needed this, even if it was just a one-time thing. It stirred the blood to life in his veins, giving him a feeling that he hadn’t known in years. Hardy fumbled for the handle of his room door and went back into the safety of his frilly, sea shell themed sanctuary.

He leaned against the door and sighed. She’d be far better off without the disaster of his presence in her life—what was she thinking? No. What was  _he_ thinking, trying to talk himself out of it? After pacing for a while, and trying to temper thoughts like how smooth her shoulders looked in the vest top, and how strong her legs looked in the shorts, he left the room.

The lounge was busy with people, and Hannah had found someone else to play chess with in his absence. The lucky sod.

He breezed past and made a plate of food, eating it alone as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Hannah laughed at something. Even though he’d never heard her laugh, he knew it was hers. It made his stomach flip and his heart flutter, and all of those other obnoxious things that he couldn’t seem to control.

When he was finished, he washed his plate while panicking about the state of his breath, and felt a flood of relief at the bowl of mints on the counter behind him. Grabbing one, he eased into the lounge and caught Hannah’s eye.

She held his gaze as she drank from a glass of wine, then tossed her braid over her shoulder and smiled at her bastard beach bum opponent. He had claimed one of her pawns, and now it was her turn.

Hardy found an empty chair and sat, swiping a book, any bloody book, from the shelf nearby. He held it up as a farce, all of his senses dedicated to her, except his sights. It became obvious after a few rounds that he was letting her win, and he wondered just how well she knew the game. A few words from the book managed to catch his eye, and he read them to tune out her opponent’s whiny voice when she bested him with her rook.

Bloody hell, he’d picked up a bodice ripper. He quickly stuffed the book back on the shelf, and gave her a covert glance to see if she’d noticed. But she hadn’t. She was laughing again at something the bum had said. Clearly she had charmed the wanker, for he was leaning closer to her, and couldn’t stop staring at her breasts.

Alec rolled his eyes and curled his lip in unabashed disgust, and then abruptly stood. He’d ruined his chances by being an arse. He retreated upstairs, doing his best to stamp out any hope that she’d follow up on her other offer to come to his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic for the beta! You are the bestest.

Hardy slid under the quilt, a patchwork nightmare of pastel seashells, to lose himself in reruns of  _Kitchen Nightmares_  or some other junk telly. Whatever it took to get his mind off of his embarrassment.

He’d begun to drift off when there was a knock at his door. Groaning, he muted the telly, and got up to peer through the peephole.  Hannah stood there, absently stroking her collarbone as she waited.

Shit. He’d already dressed in pyjama trousers and a t-shirt, not expecting her to follow up at all. Sure she’d made some hint, but… He ran a hand through his hair and checked again. She was still there. Putting aside the odd fish-eye perspective, he noticed a hint of sadness in her brow as she gazed off to the side.He watched her shoulders lift and lower with a sigh. She was turning away.

He fumbled for the lock and opened the door.

“Han—” he cleared his rough voice. “Hannah.”

Her smile dissolved whatever other emotion had been lying under the surface.

“DI Hardy—or is it Alec?”

He gave a slight shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. That you, you know, didn’t get a turn.”

“It’s fine. You were having fun.”

“Yeah, well. He wasn’t really the one I wanted to go against.” As she held his gaze, her wanton smile shifted to something a bit softer and more affectionate.

Hardy clenched his hands, feeling the nervous sweat building the longer he stood in front of her. His mind reeled with ideas of what her second offer might entail, and whether he wanted to go through with it. Before he’d been eager to have this—whatever it was. A one night stand. A fling. But his gut stirred uncomfortably at the idea now that it could actually happen. He wasn’t built for such things. He’d fall in love with her and never want her to leave his bed.

“May I come in?” she asked, making his heart hammer harder.

“Um,” he sighed and rubbed his brow. “Why? If you don’t mind me asking. What’re you aft—why me?”

She looked down, almost shyly, and licked her lips. Tossing the hair out of her eye, she returned her gaze to him.

“You look like you might need someone,” she took a shaky breath as she paused, “so do I.”

He swallowed thickly, tightened his jaw. He wanted to say that he didn’t need anyone. He was doing just fine on his own. But if  _she_  needed someone…

She became fidgety, waiting for him to respond. “Sorry. I’ll just—”

“Wait.” He stepped aside and held open the door for her. “Come in.”

She looked into the room first. “Oh, my god. They weren’t kidding when they named these rooms.” She smiled as she slipped in, smelling sweet and flowery. “You’ve got conch shell lamps! The drawer knobs are actual clams, and—oh! You’re watching  _Kitchen Nightmares_!”

He closed the door, a slight smile twisting his lips. “Don't make fun of my knobs. "

She grinned up at him after the brief survey of his room. "Oh, you should see mine. I've got this huge mermaid wall sculpture holding her tits out to me."

"Wanna switch?"

Hannah laughed. “Your knobs for my tits.”

Hardy closed his eyes and cringed, unsure whether to laugh or groan.  

She laughed harder at his expression, and sat on the bed, covering her face in her hands. “I’m sorry! That was too far.”

“I set you up for it,” he said, letting the smile slip through.

She leaned back on her elbows and smiled up at him. “I’m glad I stayed. You had me worried at first.”

“What, that I was an arse and you’d made a grave mistake?” His smile faltered as he watched her recline on his bed. She looked gorgeous among the seashells, like a mermaid herself. He breathed in through his nose trying to calm his nerves.

“Something like that. But you’re a good man, I can tell.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m worth it.”

She tilted her head to one shoulder, her brow knitting. After a beat of silence between them, she sat up.

“I was gonna go back,” she said.

“To London?” Her posh accent placed her there—somewhere in the northwest of the city.

“Back to my old life.”

He moved to sit next to her on the bed, keeping a respectable, but unfortunate distance.

“Ah. Now what?”

She looked down. “I don’t know. I booked the room for three more days, so I’ll figure it out then.”

“In the meantime, you’re in here with me when you could be with your chess partner, who has a lot less emotional baggage I’d bet.”

Her unconditional smile made his heart skip a beat. “Do you feel better?” She asked, scooting closer.

He stiffened at her advance, breathing so shallow that he might’ve passed out. “Erm…”

“It’s all right,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “May I?”

He nodded, letting her take his hand. Her touch was smooth and soothing, her fingers brushing his palm in a way that stirred up a coiling sensation low in his abdomen. The warmth of her body was right there, radiating off of her like a siren song, and he wanted to dive in and get so lost. Give in to every temptation he’d ever had. He felt himself swaying towards her, though a voice in the back of his head reminded him that she couldn’t be trusted. He barely knew her. But she was so beautiful it made his skin tingle, and he wanted to feel her lips against his so badly he might’ve attempted to find out himself, if she’d let him.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” she asked, her thumb dragging along his barren ring finger.

He felt like he was falling under her spell, and he blinked, inhaling sharply as her words brought him out of it. “You don’t know me.”

“No, I don’t, you’re right.” She licked her lips, considering her words. “But I can tell certain things.”  She looked up at him through thick lashes. “For instance, I know you don’t normally read romance novels.”

He balked. “You saw that.”

She giggled and squeezed his hand before letting go. “I did, but I don’t think anyone else noticed if that helps you feel better.”

He pursed his lips as he stared at her.

“There’s a really great scene in the one you picked up by the way. He goes down on her and she has to be so quiet, because everyone in the old manor house might hear them if she makes a sound.”

A shudder ran through him, but he tried to quell it with detached observation.

“You’ve read it.”

“Just the good bits.” She stood and stretched. “It gets boring around here sometimes.”

He watched the little patch of skin on her hip that revealed itself as she stretched. “Aye.”

“I’m going to bed. I know you get up super early for work, so I don’t wanna keep you up.”

An assortment of excuses jumped into his head, reasons for her to stay. Some that didn’t even involve shagging. But she was right. And as convinced as he was that he wanted her, he was even more convinced that he wanted to know more about her first. Whatever brought her here, and where she wanted to go next. She said she needed someone, and he desperately needed to be that person. So it could all wait.

He stood, adjusting the waistband of his pyjama trousers, and followed her to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope,” he said.

“You will.”

“When?” He sounded too desperate. Bloody hell.

She smiled, and as he drew near, she lifted on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Alec.”

Like a dream, she was gone just when he’d wanted to find out what might’ve happened next if he stopped her from leaving. He ground his teeth, desire flaring more acutely in her absence. Her scent and touches still lingering and driving him mad.

He turned off the telly and the lights, and slid into bed, trying as hard as he could to ignore the persistent arousal that had claimed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lostinfic for the beta!

Hardy sat at a window seat in the café near the station waiting for Ellie to arrive. He cradled the mug of tea in his hands to stave off the creeping awkwardness that followed every passing minute. He wished he’d just waited outside, that way he wouldn’t have to flag her down like a wanker. But he liked the smell of freshly pressed espresso, and the sound the machine made over the scattered chatter in the café. He could disappear in the ambiance, as everyone minded their own business. But outside people passing on the street had a tendency to smile and look him in the eye.

His mind soon inevitably wandered to Hannah. Only a couple days had passed, and he was already fighting that youthful swoop in his stomach every time. He brushed his thumb up the warm, smooth surface of the mug, imagining doing the same to her cheek.

The bell over the door chimed, and he looked up to see Ellie in that damn orange anorak. She smiled at him, and the anxious undercurrent vanished. He stood as she approached and her sing-song greeting was far more comforting to him than he expected.

But it was a little odd, meeting her like this outside of the context of work with nothing work-related to buffer the conversation. They’d been through a lot, though, individually and together, so perhaps the idle chit chat that he hated so much wouldn’t be necessary. He shifted his weight on his feet, wrestling with conflicting notions of whether he should offer to shake her hand, or do nothing. He waited to gauge her behaviour.

“Aw, bless, you look just the same,” Ellie said. She had a case file cradled in her arm.

“What’d you expect?”

“Thought maybe you’d have a new suit by now.” She stepped back and pulled her purse around to take out her wallet.

“This is a new suit.” He looked down at it, brow furrowed.

"'Course it is. You've got the closet of a cartoon character."

"Go get your damn coffee."

She laughed and offered the case file. "This is how I found you. Well, sort of. Anyway, go on and take a look."

He took the folder and opened it, skimming over the contents. Ellie stood there watching him for a moment, then gestured to the queue.

"I'll just get my damn coffee."

Hardy grunted in acknowledgement and drifted back to the table, where his tea awaited.

After a few minutes, Ellie returned with a coffee and a couple of scones. She dropped one in front of him on a napkin as she settled into her seat across from him.

“What’s this?” he asked, moving the file away.

“It’s a scone.”

He made a face at the scone. “Thank you.”

She merrily bit into hers. “So what d’you think? They’ve got to be connected. I’ve got a DS looking into another connection in Portsmouth.”

“Think you’ve got something here, Miller.”

“I know I do.”

He smiled slightly. “You look well. How’s wee Fred?”

“Oh, good on you, remembering his name finally.”

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“You and me both.” She paused to drink her coffee. “He’s great. Starting primary in the fall.”

The bell over the entrance chimed, and Alec glanced over, noticing familiar blonde hair. Hannah slipped in, shouldering a large purse. She headed for the queue, her gaze kept forward. His heart jumped in his chest, but she didn’t seem to notice him.

With her brows knit, Hannah glared at the menu behind the barista and tapped her lips in thought.

“What about you?” Ellie asked.

He tugged at his ear, and quickly averted his eyes to the scone. “Uh—” He’d completely lost track of what she’d said. “Daisy’s in America. Going to university in New York.”

“Really? Blimey, what sent her there?”

He shrugged, his gaze drifting back to Hannah.

Hannah flinched, and fished around in her purse for her mobile. With a heavy sigh she slid her thumb across the screen to answer.

Alec watched her step out of the queue and stare at the floor to focus on the conversation. Her lips were pursed, and she absently stroked along the collar of her shirt. He couldn't hear anything she said, but she seemed distraught, and whoever she spoke to was only making her feel worse. She turned so that her back was to him, and he finally averted his eyes.

Ellie thwapped him on the forearm. “I’m talking to you.”

“Sorry.”

“D'you know her?”

“Somewhat.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “She stays at the same B&B.”

“Well I can’t stay long. You can wait to ogle her after I leave if you don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t—” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, how else did you find me here if not for this case?”

“Might’ve been wondering how you’re getting on.”

“You’ve always been soft,” he said, breaking off a bit of scone.

“Oh, shut up. You’re the softest of the lot. You just haven’t got manners.”

She was probably right. He didn’t really know what to say, though, so he took a bite of the scone.

Ellie continued. “Looked you up and saw you were in Wrenmouth of all places; didn’t expect that. But then I saw you had queries out and one of them matched something I’d been after.”

“Ah.”

“Kinda nice change for us, though? A ring of money launderers of all things. You looking for a permanent place here then?"

He didn’t want to sallow the mood by bringing up his dissatisfaction with the work, so he kept it to himself. "There's a flat opening up in a couple weeks. Not sure if I'm staying though."

Concern flitted across Ellie's features. She sipped her coffee, and breathed in, considering her words. "Where’ll you go?”

"Don’t know." He snuck a glance over at Hannah as he drank his tea. She was placing her order at last, flashing her warmest smile at the barista.

"They don't really need me here after I solve this case," he added.

"Well, there's anything you need just phone me. Should pop over sometime and have dinner. Beth was asking about you too, and Chloe.”

“They don’t miss me.”

“Oh stop it. You miss us just as much. Why the hell else would you take a job so close by?”

“You got me there.” He said it flippantly, but it was true.

Alec pulled out his mobile as it buzzed with a text from Tess. Just as he suspected, Daisy had found friends to stay with during the wedding. Damn, it was next weekend? Ah well. He hadn’t exactly been invited.

Just as he had that thought, Tess sent a text letting him know that he’d be welcome at the wedding, if he’d like to come, and that she wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate, but on account of Daisy being there, maybe he’d like to see her. He frowned, lip curling slightly.

"She's looking at you,” Ellie said.

"What?" He looked up towards the counter.

Hannah smiled at him, catching his eye. His expression softened, but he didn't quite smile back. There was a troubled look in her eyes, and though it stirred the urge in him to comfort her, he was still sorting out the twisting irritation at Tess’s text. The barista gave her a mug of coffee, and she headed off to find an empty table on the other side of the café.

Ellie stood. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work. Stay in touch.”

He stood as well, and followed her to the door.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” he said.

She smiled. “It’s really good to see you again. I mean it.”

Alec held open the door for her. “Aye, same.”

She left, and he hesitated, watching her walk away as the door slowly closed, keeping him inside. He checked the time on his wristwatch. It wouldn’t be so terrible if he stayed out just a wee bit longer.

Turning, he searched for where Hannah had gone to sit. There she was, focused on her laptop, head tilted against one of her shoulders. She rubbed the back of her neck with her fingertips, making his pulse quicken. Before he could finish arguing with himself over if it’d be impolite to interrupt her, he’d already wandered in her direction.

Hannah must’ve seen his shadow. She turned and her eyes travelled up his frame to settle on his face.

“Hello, Alec,” she said.

"May I?"

 "Of course." She closed her laptop and shifted it to the side as he sat across from her.

"Who was that?" She asked, leaning in on her elbows.

"She was my DS in Broadchurch. They've a case that they think is connected to one I'm working on."

“Ooh, what sort of case is it?”

“Nothing interesting. A ring of white collar criminals.”

“Mmm. What would be more interesting?”

“I’m a homicide detective.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “I get the feeling that sort of thing doesn’t happen much around here.”

“Until it does.”

She tilted her head discerningly at him, then glanced down at her mobile when it lit up with a text. Her mouth tugged in a slight frown.

“Is everything all right?”

“No.” She sighed and shoved the mobile into her purse. “I have to go home. It’s my mum; she’s ill. They’re doing an operation and I had no idea.”

“When’s the operation? Do you know what it’s for?”

“Friday. I have a taxi picking me up tomorrow at 8am. My sister’s freaking out. She thinks I should leave immediately.” She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They caught it early. They’ve just got to see if it’s spread to her lymph system, so it’s a biopsy I believe.”

Hardy swallowed, his heart sinking. “So, um… will you be back when it’s over?” That sounded so bloody selfish, she was sure to think so too. He adjusted his tie nervously.

Hannah ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. I hadn’t planned on staying here forever.”

His chest tightened. “If they caught it early, that’s a good thing. Lowers their chances of finding anything in the biopsy.”

“Yeah, I hope so. I wasn’t very close to her, but it’s still…” Her words trailed off and she shrugged.

“I’ll take you. I’ll take you to London—that where you’re going?”

“Yes, but you’ve got work. I can’t ask that of you. Besides, you barely know me.” She looked down, fidgeting with her mug of coffee. A strand of hair fell across her brow. Hardy fought the urge to tuck it back behind her ear and run his hand through her hair.

“No. But I’d like to.”

She smiled, but didn’t look up. “Don’t be so sure.”

“I am sure.”

“All right then, how about this.” She straightened and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Meet me tonight when they’re having supper. We can swap sordid backstories,” she said with a coy smile. “If you still want to drive me to London, then—”

“I’ll still want to drive you. I, ah…” He rubbed his brow and leaned in towards her. “I remember driving alone to stay with my mother in the hospital. I thought I’d prefer it, but…”

Hannah sighed, and he worried that she’d grown annoyed by his persistence.

“Do you have a car? You walk everywhere you go.”

“Shite.”

She laughed and their knees brushed. Neither of them moved, the inside of his knee resting against the outside of hers. His heart sped up, and he drew in a few steadying breaths. She kept her eyes on him, and ever so softly she let her toes graze his ankle.

“Meet me tonight, and we’ll take it from there,” she said, and the gentle sadness returned to her eyes. Like she’d already decided that he’d reject her. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lostinfic for the beta!

After leaving the café, Hardy returned to the station with a light feeling in his chest. It made him notice things on his way, like colourful flowers hanging from shop awnings, and the ghost of the moon high in the blue sky. A cool, salty breeze off the water brushed his skin and relaxed him further. All because Hannah’s knee had touched his. He really needed to get a grip.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon pursuing Ellie’s lead, and made a sizable dent in the case. An arrest was on the horizon—Andreus Marley, the head of the whole embezzlement ring—but he had to play his hand carefully. Marley had proven evasive, and according to Ellie’s reports, could be directly tied to larger groups in other cities. He sat down and loosened his tie, tense from nearly losing it all when one of his detective sergeants almost blew his cover. Now he had to wait for that damn data forensics report.

He glanced at the time—half six. A knot of worry twisted in his stomach. Supper at the B&B would be served soon, and he’d definitely miss it. That wasn’t such a big deal, he’s missed it plenty of times before. But he promised he’d meet Hannah around then, and that was something that  _needed_  to happen.

After a frenzied round of clicking refresh in his email, and checking for forensics updates in the case status in his computer, he swore under his breath and pushed away from his desk. He stood, and drifted to the window as he phoned the B&B.

 _“Seafern Bed and Breakfast, how may I help you?_   _”_

“Erm, this is Alec Hardy, I’m staying there presently, and need to get an urgent message to one of your other guests.”

 _“Oh, certainly. What is the message?_   _”_

“It’s for Hannah, uh…”

“ _Hannah Baxter?_ ”

“Yes. Tell her I’m going to be a bit late, and, erm… that I’m sorry.”

 _“We_   _’ll get the message to her as soon as possible._   _”_

“Thank you.”

He hung up, and sighed. Guilt and frustration squeezed his throat like a fist. This was the sort of thing that ruined his marriage. The sort of thing that he hated having to choose between—a personal affection and the responsibilities of his career. Even though this case didn’t involve murder, it still involved people’s lives. He leaned against the window frame and folded his arms, staring a hole into the email icon on his computer from the short distance.

There was a knock at his office door.

“Yeah?”

The door opened, and one of the officers popped his head in. “Bad news, sir.”

Hardy waited for the officer to elaborate. Instead he shuffled nervously into the room.

“Out with it!”

“Er, we think Marley was tipped off. They can’t find him.”

“God dammit! Should’ve done it myself.” He rubbed his brow. “Have you heard anything from data forensics?”

“They need twenty more minutes.”

Hardy breezed across the room and grabbed his mac from the coat rack. He pulled it on as he went over orders with the officers. They needed to get ahead of Marley. The bugger knew they required more evidence to book him, and Hardy had placed all of his bets on finding it in that bloody laptop.

///

An hour later, the same DS who’d almost blown cover redeemed himself by locating Marley in a warehouse by the docks. The forensics had come in while they were out, and Hardy had the pleasure of cuffing the suspect himself and tucking him into a nearby squad car for processing.

On the way back to the station, he had the DS drop him off at the B&B. There were a few questions he avoided— _don_ _’t you want to be there, sir?_ Not tonight. He ran around the house instead of going inside, hoping in vain she’d still be out there waiting. He reached the back porch to find that she wasn’t there. Of course—why would she be? He was about to head inside to check her room when he noticed a silhouette down by the shore. He rushed through the grassy dunes, cursing as he stumbled over a clump of packed sand. When he reached open sand, he slowed his steps, and ran a hand through his hair to sort it out in some manner that she might find vaguely appealing.

Hannah smiled at him over her shoulder as he approached. She was wrapped in a small blanket to fend off the chilly wind, and had her hair in a low ponytail.

“I got your message,” she said, eyes tracking him as he came to stand next to her.

He worked to catch his breath as he glared at the setting sun. “Good.”

“Wanna sit?”

Before he could answer, she removed the blanket from her shoulders and spread it out on the sand. He watched her sit down and stretch out her legs, propping up on her hands. Wordlessly, he joined her, sitting with his knees bent and his forearms resting upon them.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking her way.

“It’s okay. You do important work.”

“It’s not the only thing that’s important.”

She smiled a little, tilting her head as she gazed over the lazy waves.

“I made an arrest tonight, so things were a bit intense,” he said.

“I would’ve understood if you had to stay later.”

“No, I… wanted to,” he cleared his throat. “It’s taken care of.”

She sat up to cross her legs and wrap her arms around herself. “I feel safer already. Cold, but safer.”

He chuckled, and removed his mac to place it around her shoulders. She turned her face towards the collar and closed her eyes with a dreamy smile. It made butterflies swirl in his stomach.

“You gonna tell me about your sordid backstory now?” he asked.

Hannah laughed. “You first.”

“Oh, mine’s just your average series of cockups on account of my parents’ constant arguing till my mum died. Nothing saucy.”

“Everyone’s got  _something_  saucy.” She gave him a coy glance. “Tell me how you’ve cocked up. I bet I could match it.”

“We in a competition?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “You wanted to take me to London.”

He shook his head, hiding a smile.

“You got me. I worked late one too many times, and drove my wife into having an affair. We’re divorced. Have a daughter who’s in uni that I don’t get to see nearly as much as I’d like.”

Hannah tilted her head, and her coquettish expression softened into something more compassionate, but no less exquisite.  “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” The look in her eyes made him want to confess everything. “My last two murder cases involved child victims. That’s why I…” He took a breath, turning his gaze on the ocean. “I work hard so the families can find some semblance of, of peace in the middle of what must feel like hell on earth.”

“Oh god…were they able to? Find peace.”

“I think they could move on with their lives at least.”

“That must take a lot out of you, to face something like that head on.”

 “After a time you find a way to cope. You get used to it, but it’s never easy.” He looked over at her, and caught her staring at him. She met his eyes, unashamed at being caught.

“Your turn,” he said.

At that, she looked away. She stretched out a slender leg, poking the sand with her toe.

“I’m an escort, high-class. Or was. I dunno anymore.” She sucked in a breath and sighed.

His heart didn’t quite sink. This wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve said by far, but it made him hesitate. The old him would’ve stood up straight away and bid her a good evening, but not anymore. People were far too complex. A woman he’d risked his career to protect turned out to be a child murderer, while his wife had an affair that cost them both pivotal evidence and their marriage. The quality of a person couldn’t be measured by virtue alone.

He scanned the cresting waves for something to say to not make it so obvious that he was a little unnerved. Because he was also intrigued, and decidedly attracted to her. Now he’d been silent too long, and she was fidgeting and biting her lip.

“Not what I expected,” he said.

“I know.”

“Why?”

“I’m good at it. It pays well. I can have the lifestyle I want.” She sounded defensive. “I have expensive taste.”

“No, I mean… why don’t you know anymore?”

She blinked. “Oh. Well, everything around me just… I try to—” She shook her head, stared down the sea. “People can’t handle it. Friends, especially family. Boyfriends? Forget it. I’ve tried to keep it all separate, live two different lives, but it’s wearing me down. Lying and pretending and defending myself…”

He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, saying nothing.

She smiled at him, bittersweet. “It’s probably better if I go alone. To London.”

“If that’s what you want.” He tried to hide his disappointment with an even tone. His thumb brushed her shoulder, and then he let her go.

“That’s just it. It’s not. I don’t want to be alone.” She gave a hollow laugh and looked up at the sky, fighting tears. “You seem kind. I’d like to know you better, like you said. But I might not come back, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

“Can’t blame you for not wantin’ to come back to this place.”

“But it’s beautiful, and it’s far, far away.”

“And that’s good?” He watched her hair rustle in a sea breeze, and felt a twinge low in his belly when she licked her lips.

“For everything that makes it hard, there’s something that pulls me back. This place… there’s nothing. Nobody knows me.”

“Aye. That’s a comfort,” he said. “Being unknown.”

She was quiet as she reflected on his words.

“I used to think so,” she said at last. “My mum doesn’t know anything about me, but she still wants me there.”

“Still want to go alone?”

She smiled at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You still wanna go with me?”

He nodded.

Hannah looked off to the side in thought. She took in a deep breath, and turned, raising up on her knees to face him. “I’ve got an idea.”

He was all ears and no words, staring at her with the sun setting behind her back.

“If you still wanna come, maybe you… maybe you could, I dunno, pretend to be my boyfriend. Just in front of my mum. I think it’d make her happy to know I’m… happy.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Keep her from worrying.”

He dug his fingers into the blanket, feeling the sand beneath it give under his grip. “What would I need to do?”

“Nothing major. Play the part in front of her. Put your arm around me, maybe look at me like I’m your world. You know, make it seem real.”

“Hannah, I…” He sighed.

She bit her lip. “Too weird, is it?”

“No. I’ll do it.”

She smiled and sat back on her heels. “Great. It’s settled, then. Pack a bag, we’re going to London.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic, who is a lovely person as well as a great beta~!

Hardy stuffed his small duffel bag into the boot of the taxi. He then moved on to Hannah’s three-piece luggage. She’d left it before heading back inside to grab a to-go cup of coffee.  He leaned back against the car and scrolled through emails on his mobile with a swipe of his thumb as he waited for her to return.

But he didn’t really see them, the emails.  All he could see was Hannah. Hannah walking towards him, overburdened by her luggage but smiling all the same. Hannah wearing a t-shirt and leggings with her hair in a messy bun. Hannah wearing little makeup to hide her sleepy eyes. Hannah’s hand brushing his as he hurried to help her. The whole thing made him feel a bit ridiculous. He thought he was too old, too damaged to be head over heels.

How in God’s name was he supposed to act as her boyfriend? He wasn’t sure if he remembered what to do. He’d been a husband for too long, and not a very good one.

Not to mention, they hadn’t discussed any details. Should he hold her hand? Put his arm around her? Her mother would likely ask how they met and all that bollocks. She would see through the ruse, creating an unbearably awkward situation for all involved. He didn’t have the patience to play such games, and part of him was a little irritated that she’d impose such a performance on him. Maybe he shouldn’t do it. The last thing he wanted was to get wrapped up in drama.

The door opened, and Hannah stepped out, grinning at something someone inside had said to her. He straightened as Hannah approached the taxi and took a sip of her coffee.

“Sure you don’t want anything?”

He shrugged. “I’ll get something later.”

“Suit yourself.”

He opened the door for her, and she slid into the cab.

“Ta. Doing a good job already,” she said.

“What? Oh.” He closed the door so she wouldn’t see his face turning red.

Once he took his seat beside her, they set off for London.

Silence settled between them at first, which was a comfort to him. He stared out of the window as she fiddled with her mobile.

He was about to bring up their strategy when Hannah received a call. It sounded business-like, but somewhat flirtatious.  She stared at her mobile when the call ended and bit her lip.

Hardy struggled to ignore his compulsion to ask questions. She looked over at him, and despite the lurch in his stomach, he gave a slight smile. The morning sunlight glimmered around her hair. It was cinematic.

She didn’t return the smile as readily as she tended to. After licking her lips, she cradled her phone to her chest and stared out of the window. Now he was properly worried.

“All right?”

She sighed. “I, uhm… just took a client for tomorrow night.”

“Pardon?”

“A regular. He’s in town.”

“You mean—”

“Yeah.”

Hardy looked away from her and glared out of the window. She’s already taking bloody clients again after she said she was done. But they weren’t together. He couldn’t accuse her of cheating. Leading him on, perhaps, but it wasn’t worth it. He sucked it up, but had nothing else to say to her.

“You’re upset,” she said softly.

“I’m disappointed, that’s all.”

“I need the money. It’ll help keep me covered till I can find another source of income. My book sales aren’t doing as well anymore.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“But you’re disappointed.”

“I just thought…” He sighed, and then looked at her. “Look, I don’t have a right to be, so we can leave it.”

She bit her thumb nail and stared out of the window.

They fell silent again for several miles. Hardy tried to relax into it, but he couldn’t. He felt daft, and a wee bit used, if he were to be honest.

“Hey,” she said, almost shyly.

He looked at her, scowling from his recent thoughts.

She searched his eyes. “It’s not for sex. Does that matter? He just wants my company.”

Of course that mattered. It might’ve even mattered more. _He_ wanted her company. Sex was, well… certainly not something he’d turn down, but getting to know her first was a more pertinent desire.

“You don’t have to ask my permission. My opinion doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’re not together.”

Her answering smile threw him off guard.

“Why are you smiling?”

She shrugged and put her hand on his knee briefly. “I wasn’t asking your permission. That’d never happen, okay? But that doesn’t mean your feelings about it don’t matter. I asked you to help me put on a show for my mum, so if you’re feeling like you want to back out—”

“No. I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“But you’d rather I back out than you cancel your client, I take it.”

“That’s not what I—shit. I see why you’d think that. I just mean, like, it was impulsive. How I agreed to it. And it bothered you, so I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to turn around.” She sighed and slouched, her head resting against the back seat. “I’m not good at this.”

“That makes two of us.”

She quietly gazed out of the window, and he did the same. They passed farmland and old homesteads that went on forever. His mind drifted away from immediate worries, and reached that nebulous space between thought and daydream where emotions seemed to fall away. Like hypnosis.

After a time, Hannah bit her knuckle and smiled over at him. Her movement drew his attention, eyebrow raised.

“If she asks how we met, what d’you want to say?”

He shifted in the seat. “Ehm…”

“Oh! How about this. You rescued me from a criminal mastermind that had me all tied up in a nasty basement. You helped release me from the painful ropes, and I couldn’t help but lean into your embrace as you picked me up out of the chair.”

Hardy cleared his throat.

“Or, I witnessed a horrific murder, and the killer was after me next. I came to you all afraid and in need of protection.” She sat up, clearly in her element. “You stayed with me in a safe house and one thing led to another…”

He snorted and made a face. “These sound like fantasies. I’m your boyfriend, not a client.”

“Ah, so you consider them fantasies.” She smiled coyly.

“To someone, I’m sure. But she wouldn’t believe that rubbish, would she?”

“Well then, what do you suggest?”

He pursed his lips, and looked up in thought. “Keep it natural. We met at a bed and breakfast. You were coming in from the seaside, and I was going out for a walk. I held the door open for you, and you smiled at me.”

“Ooh, what happened next?”

“You asked me out.”

She laughed. “Right then and there?”

“Yes. You were so attracted to me you couldn’t stand another minute alone.”

Her laughter eased to an amused giggle. “Oh, see, _this_ sounds like a fantasy.”

He furrowed his brow. “….Yeah.”

“Aw, I’m just taking the mick. It’s not far from the truth.”

He straightened. “Really?”

She ducked her head a little, lashes fluttering. “Let’s go with that story. Settled?”

“Aye.”

“And we’ve been together for five months.”

“Why five?”

“Long enough to sound serious, and short enough to seem true.”

“All right.”

From there, they eased into a casual conversation. They learnt a little more about each other, and he even found himself chuckling at her endearing sense of humour.

She was a casual reader, like himself, and they enjoyed many of the same novels. The most recent they’d both finished was a short story called _What We Talk About When We Talk About Love_ , by Raymond Carver. Damaged people struggling to define love over a shared bottle of gin. Hardy enjoyed its candor. Hannah loved it for the deeper meanings.

He also learnt that they were both too busy to keep up with much telly. They both shared similar humanist views. They both preferred wine over lager.

She asked him about Daisy, and he asked her about her books.

When they finally arrived at Hannah’s house, he felt more relaxed around her than at the start of their journey. She could be a great friend, if all else failed.

They dropped off their luggage, and got right back into the taxi to head to the hospital. There wasn’t any time to discuss sleeping arrangements. Hannah had grown agitated and a little sullen, so he thought it best not to bring it up.

The taxi pulled up to the hospital entrance, and a steady rain began to fall.

“Everything just hit me.” Hannah had her hand on the door handle, but made no move to get out.

He took the hand she had resting on the seat between them. She hooked her thumb up over his index finger.

“You can do this,” he said.

She bit her lip, and looked over at him. Her eyes welled up with tears as she smiled.

Now the question was, could he?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic for the beta!  
> CW: Hospital setting/post op for Hannah's mother.

Hardy tensed the moment they walked into the lobby of the hospital.  The strong antiseptic smell and harsh florescent lighting triggered unwanted memories, both of his own operation and when his mother passed away. Hannah went ahead of him to reception, and asked for directions whilst he hung back and glared at the offensively uncomfortable waiting room chairs.

Hannah rejoined him moments later, and they headed for the lift. She lightly touched his arm as she leaned forward to press the button.

“All right?”  She looped a strand of hair behind her ear.

He looked at her without answering.  She held his gaze as the doors opened.

“Is she expecting me?” he asked.

“No.”

“Bloody hell.”

She smiled a little and walked into the lift. He followed.

“Well, maybe. I told my sister.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the doors closed.

They reached her mother’s hospital room, and Hannah paused outside of the door. They could hear the beeping of the monitors and the muffled chatter of a television within. She touched her lip with her fingertips. Her eyes glistened, but she blinked it away.

“Ready, Hannah? It’s okay if you’re not.” Hardy began to reach for her hand, but thought better of it.

Her eyes fluttered closed briefly. “Yeah.”

She opened the door, and they went inside.

Hannah’s mother was propped up slightly so that she could watch the telly. She’d styled in a twist, and put on makeup. It reminded him of his own mother. Seemed they all wanted to look their best even in tacky hospital gowns. The woman looked over at them with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, Hannah, I’m so happy to see you.”

Hannah moved to her mother’s side and took her hand. “When’s the operation?”

“They moved it up, dear. It was this morning. Didn’t you hear?”

“N-no…” Hannah checked her mobile for messages, finding none. “Jackie said it would be tomorrow.”

“Maybe she didn’t have time. She was here.”

Hannah’s shoulders slouched and she looked away. “Sorry. If I’d’ve known…”

“It’s quite all right, darling. I wasn’t expecting you anyway, so this is a lovely surprise.”

“Oh, stop. Why wouldn’t I want to be here? You’re my mum.” She forced a laugh, and looked up at the ceiling to keep her eyes dry.

“Hasn’t made much of a difference—oh.” The woman finally looked up to see Alec standing just out of the glow of the recessed lighting. “Hello there. Is this your boyfriend? Jackie said you found someone. Wasn’t expecting that one either.”

He kept his expression as indifferent as he could, though the woman was already getting under his skin.

“Yeah, um, this is Alec. Alec Hardy.” Hannah reached for his hand, and guided him over. “I wanted you to meet him.”

The woman smiled at Hardy. “I’m Claudia. Sorry you had to see me like this.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Stop. You look lovely, mum.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Hardy nodded in greeting. “A pleasure, Mrs. Baxter.” He then leaned in to speak softly to Hannah. “I can step outside if you’d like privacy.”

Hannah’s mother clicked her tongue. “Nonsense, you should stay since she brought you all the way here. Tell me, what do you do?”

Hardy hesitated. Here it came: the barrage of embarrassing questions. “I’m a detective inspector.”

“Colour me surprised. How did you meet my daughter? She didn’t get into trouble did she? I always wondered if something like this might happen someday.”

He exchanged a look with Hannah.

“She was, ehm, a witness to a serial murder. Assigned to my care as a result until the suspect was apprehended.”

A slow smile spread across Hannah’s face. Though she didn’t look at him, she bumped her hip against his. “Yeah. He kept me safe.”

He was hopeless.

Claudia put her hand on her chest. “Oh, heavens. I’m sure you were doing something you shouldn’t have been, dear. But what would I know? You never talk to me about anything.”

Hardy scowled. Just when he’d begun to feel a little guilty for lying. He put his hands on his hips and shifted his posture.

“It’s okay,” Hannah said to Hardy in a whisper, putting her hand on his arm.

His gaze slid away, and he sighed through his nose.

“I was just out for a jog, mum. It was early.”

Hardy nodded, both to agree for Claudia’s sake, and to appraise Hannah on the realism of her statement.

Claudia watched them, and then rubbed her temple.  “I’m sorry, darling. The anesthesia is wearing off and making me irritable. I’m glad you’re safe.”

Hannah grabbed Hardy’s hand and squeezed it. Her touch tempered his agitation, though he had nothing more to say.  He listened as she spoke with her mother about the operation and prognosis. The conversation meandered into personal territory about their family and Hannah’s father in particular.

Hardy did his best to respectfully tune them out by watching the telly. It was a reality show, however, and he couldn’t be arsed to follow what the hell was going on, so he resolved himself to staring out of the window at the rain. And trying not to read much into the way her hand remained firmly entwined with his during her entire conversation with her mother.

After a time, Hannah’s arm slipped around his waist. The floral scent of her shampoo drew him to turn towards her. He let his chin rest against her head, and he pulled her closer with a hand on her opposite shoulder. Without thinking of it much, his thumb began to stroke her neck under her soft hair.

It felt so natural to touch her like this. And the way she’d nestled so firmly against his side was—

A tightness spread through his chest. They were supposed to be acting. She said she was an escort, so she was probably used to acting like this. She didn’t seem bothered by his touch at least. Though again, she could easily pretend that as well.

He stilled his thumb when he noticed gooseflesh rising on her forearms.

“It’s been great,” Hannah said. She sounded wistful.

“I’m ever so glad to hear it. You seem very happy with him.”

“Haven’t felt happier.”

“Really?” Hardy blurted.

Shite. Both women looked at him, and the room suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Claudia laughed. “That’s a good sign. Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

“Thanks. Love you, mum.”

“Love you too, darling.”

Hannah grasped Hardy’s hand, and the next thing he knew, she was leading him out into the hall. They paused by the lift, waiting for it to return to their floor.

“She, erm, seemed convinced.” He shrugged, affecting a coolness with the whole situation that he didn’t feel in the slightest. His breathing rate had ticked up, and it felt like an egg was lodged in his throat.

She averted her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Though at first…”

“That’s just how she is.”

His stomach wouldn’t stop rolling over on itself every time she didn’t smile at him when she could’ve.  He hated when he couldn’t get a good read on a person.

“You were great,” she said, swaying from side to side a little. Still no smile.

“So were you.”

“Especially when you went off script.”

“About that…”

“It’s okay.” There was the smile. He relaxed a little.

The lift doors opened, and she cruised inside. He entered and pressed the lobby button. The moment the doors slid closed, Hannah gave a huge sigh.

“God, I need a good shag after that. She makes me so stressed.”

Hardy slowly turned his head towards her, eyes wide.

She smiled suggestively. “It’s all right. I packed a vibrator.”

“For God’s sake, woman.”

Hannah’s answering laughter made his skin tingle, though he couldn’t tell if she was having a go at him.

“I’m starving. Want to go somewhere?”

He had to be witty here, he realised. He couldn’t do flirty, not at all. If that’s what she was going for. He had no fucking clue anymore.

“Well which is it? Do you want to eat or—”

“—be eaten out?”

His face felt on fire, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I, erm… was going to say take care of—bloody hell.”

“Sorry! I couldn’t help it. You set it up so well.”

He had never met anyone like her in his life.

She kept on giggling as they exited the lobby and walked outside the hospital. The rain had eased off, leaving an aroma of humid pavement.

“We’re going to a restaurant, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Just want to make sure we’re agreeing to the same thing.”

Hannah laughed, and kept her eyes on him as her grin lingered. “Wait here.”

She fished her mobile from her purse, and took a few steps away to phone someone. Hardy watched the traffic, until she returned to his side. She was no longer smiling.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Could use a drink too.”

“Lead the way.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic for the beta. <3

They walked to a café two streets over from the hospital, and were seated at a table for two outside under the awning. Hardy ordered a salad and a glass of water. Hannah ordered a sandwich with a side of chips.

“And wine. Um, the Malbec, please.”

“Still feeling tense?” he asked once the waiter had left.

“Yeah. And shit for feeling that way ‘cos of what she’s dealing with.”

“We’re all dealing with something.”

Hannah pulled the tie from her bun, and ran her fingers through the soft-looking strands, letting them settle in a lovely mess around her shoulders.

Hardy occupied his hands, and his attention, by opening the napkin-wrapped silverware. “She suspects something.”

“Yeah, that I’m a lesbian.”

His mouth twitched a bit at that. “That’s not a career.”

“I do like women,” she said coolly in front of the rangy young waiter as he set down their plates. “And men. Cheers.” She smiled brightly at the mystified waiter. He scuttled away.

“Ah, well then.” Hardy stabbed his salad with a fork. “She might understand you more if you just out and say you’re an, ehm, you know.”

Hannah laughed. “That’s true.”

She picked up a chip, and with it she prodded other chips on the greasy paper. Eventually she chucked it back on the pile, and stared off at the people walking by. She sighed no less than five times, and not once touched her sandwich as he ate a few bites of salad.

More people were out now that the sun had begun to set. They strolled by in groups and singles with phones pressed to ears or laughing at inside jokes. It all made Hardy feel on display sitting outside amongst them. He tried to ignore the discomfort by covertly studying Hannah’s posture as he slid his thumb up and down through the condensation on the side of his glass of water.

She shifted her gaze to the string of fairy lights along the awning of the café. Bit at her cheek, had her brows furrowed. Her fingertips stroked her collarbone, a sign that thoughts pulled her inward.

Still, she said nothing and didn’t eat.

“They said they don’t think they’ll find anything in the lymph.” Hardy leaned forward, hoping his concern would be welcome. “I’m sure your mother’ll be all right.”

Hannah’s chest rose and fell with a sixth slow sigh. She took a contemplative sip of her wine. “Should grab a taxi and go back. Tonight, okay? Just get out of here.”

Did she want him to leave? Her eyes met his over the little arrangement of flowers between them.

“…Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll just—” He searched his pockets for his mobile as his stomach sank. “I have my things at your house, so I’ll see if I can, err, stop by to get it.”

“No, I meant us.” She reached across, almost knocking over her wine to put her hand near his. “Both of us. Sorry.”

“Erm… But you said you had a client. Tomorrow was it?”

“I cancelled.” She withdrew her hand and looked at her fingernails.

He stared at her, elation sparring with confusion. He was sure it was written all over his face, and didn’t bloody care.

" _Why_?"

She picked at the crust of her sandwich. “Thought you’d be happy to hear it.”

“You said you needed the money.”

"It's not—I just—" she rubbed her forehead. "It wasn't only about that. I've been, I've been lonely. Not sure what to do with myself. But talking to mum just- And then you were so…" she groaned and closed her eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You were - you were perfect.” She finally ate a chip. “Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know. You seemed—” He made a face. “I went off script, as you put it. I made up a stupid lie.”

“It wasn’t stupid. It was sweet.”

“ _Sweet_?”

Hannah giggled. “You’re my hero.”

 “Now you’re making fun of me.”

“It was one of _my_ ideas.” She picked up half of her sandwich.

“Aye. Went with the one that sounded less like the intro to an adult film.”

Hannah tried not to laugh as she bit into the sandwich. “You should see your face.”

He wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes.

“Stop or it’ll stick that way.”

“It hasn’t already?”

She gave a proper laugh at that.

He loved her laugh, he decided. It made him want to laugh too, which couldn’t be said of hardly anyone else. But he’d spent too long cursing the very turn of the earth to let such a feeling ease his mind just like that.

“So you do want to go back? With me?”

There was a smile in her eyes over the rim of her wine glass.

“Yes. Oh, but I need a shower. We’ll just pop over to my house for a little bit first. We need our things anyway.”

“O—”

“Hannah! Babes!”

They both turned to see a woman with curly dark hair and numerous shop bags over the hook of her arm waving at them. She hurried over, but once she came closer she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, god. I didn’t just—shit! Wait, you’re not in Belle mode—”

Hannah cringed. “Bambi! Jesus!”

“—shit! You are! I’m so sorry. God! You’re dressed like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Hey!” Hannah threw her hands up in offense.

Hardy chuckled mid-sip of water. Neither woman noticed, thank God.

“—I didn’t realize. Wait. I’m confused. Are you on a date?”

“He’s not a—fuck. He’s a friend. This is Alec. God, Bambi, you’re out of practice.”

Bambi smiled sheepishly to Hardy and waved a little. “Sorry. Hi, I’m Bambi.”

Hardy kept very still, too stunned by the woman’s boisterous appearance to know how to respond properly. Bambi turned back to Hannah before he even had a chance anyway.

“You can tell he’s fit under that shabby beard, yeah?”  Bambi tried to whisper it, even shielded the side of her face, but he knew just how to tune out the noise around him to pick up on important conversations.

Hannah grinned a little too forcefully. “I’m so happy to see you! How are things?”

“Really good. Really, really great! I can’t chat long, I’m on my way for a fitting. Ben’s getting married you know.”

Hannah’s smile faltered. “No. I didn’t.”

“Oh. I thought you would’ve.”

Hardy watched them without watching them, keeping his eyes on his salad. He hadn’t known Hannah very long in the scheme of things, but he could tell this Bambi woman had just plucked at a very deep and sore wound.

“Babes, you’ve been gone. We hadn’t heard from you. I just assumed you knew and weren’t gonna come.”

And just like that, Hannah closed up like a fan. Her eyes went blank, and her open, friendly posture hardened on the spot. She grabbed her purse and stood. “Give him my best. It was good to see you, Bambi. Come on, Alec.”

Hardy took out his wallet and threw a few quid on the table. Without a word to Bambi, he followed Hannah away from the café. She took long, brisk strides, and kept her back to him as she hailed a taxi.

Once the door closed on them, Hannah slammed her fist on the seat. “Fucking rich. God, what a twat he is. Not even a text. I could just—” She turned away from Hardy and hid her face with her hand.

He kept quiet, letting her overcome whatever was going through her heart. She sniffled, and her shoulder shook subtly under her hair. When her breathing had evened out and the sobs had ebbed, he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now.”

She looked over at him. Her eyes were red, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“He was my best mate. The only person I thought understood me.”

“He’s a bastard for not including you then.”

Hannah smiled as she wiped tears away.

He lifted a finger, grazing it along the line of her jaw. She turned her head a little, so that her lips brushed across his knuckles. It ignited his blood like a bonfire to see her lips against his skin. He drew in a breath through his teeth, thanking God that her eyes were closed. Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he withdrew his hand and kept it in his lap the rest of the way to her house.

Hardy sat like a stone on her sofa whilst she showered. She emerged in slightly better spirits, and they headed out where the taxi had been waiting for them. As he arranged their things in the boot, he considered bringing up her situation. He could relate to it in a way, given that his ex-wife was about to be wedded. But he also dreaded reviving her pain.

“Do you think I look shabby?” he asked instead.

Hannah’s grinning face came into view as he shut the boot of the taxi.

“You heard her.”

“Well?”

“The same person who said I looked like I just rolled outta bed?”

“I care more what you think.”

She reached up and swept the fringe from hanging over his brow. “You look just fine.”

He squinted at her.

“But yeah you could use a trim.”

“That’s more like it.”

It was eleven by the time they were back on the road to the Bed and Breakfast. Once they hit the motorway, city lights fading behind them, Hannah unbuckled her seatbelt.

“What are you—?”

She slid into the middle seat where she rebuckled herself. “If I fall asleep—which I definitely will ‘cos I’m knackered—I’d rather use you as a pillow than the window if you don’t mind.”

“Not sure I’m any more comfortable.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Mm, maybe not, but you smell nicer.”

He shifted a little to bring his arm up around the back of the seat.

“Not sure about that either.”

“You’re definitely warmer.”

“Well, even that’s debatable.”

Hannah toyed with his tie, straightening it with a few noticeably exaggerated strokes of her fingers. “If you said chattier next I wouldn’t argue.”

He smiled through a honey-slow haze of arousal. “I can take the hint.”

Just as she’d predicted, she fell asleep moments later. He stared out of the window, trying to focus his thoughts elsewhere, but her proximity once again had his heart pounding. Her soft breathing, her breast pressing to his side, and the hand resting on his leg did very little to corral his imagination from venturing towards indecency. She moaned a little in her sleep, and snuggled even closer. Her hand slid up further, fingers curling around the inside of his thigh.  He loosened his tie, wishing he could loosen his trousers.

Unable to bear it any longer, he opened the window a bit to let the cold air soothe his sweltering skin. The loamy scent of the distant sea overcame the smell of Hannah’s hair. After a time, the arousal ebbed, and he succumbed to slumber himself.

The sound of the taxi pulling into the drive of the bed and breakfast awoke Hardy. Hannah, however, remained a veritable dead weight against him. He carefully extracted their seatbelts and began to scoop her into his arms.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. “Mmm, carry me to bed. I’m too sleepy to walk.”

"Would you like that, now?”

Her arms tightened around him. “Yeah.”

"We've got luggage. I’ve got to pay the faire."

“Fine,” she whinged.

She let go of him reluctantly, and helped him gather their belongings as he paid the faire. The taxi drove off, leaving them with a chorus of crickets and frogs.

Hannah set down her luggage and stared up at the crescent moon. The surf whispered over the sand in the distance.  He came to stand next to her.

“You know what I love?” she asked, head still tilted to the sky.

He adjusted the strap of his duffel over his shoulder.  “What?”

“I love the beach at night better than at day. You can look up and see so many stars. Makes me think about things. God I sound so daft.” She yawned, and gave a full body stretch before continuing. “You know the same sand on the beach out there used to be on the seabed a thousand years ago, and it’ll be there again someday. A billion stars, a billion grains of sand. We’re tiny and nothing really matters. None of it.”

Except everything mattered, to him. Everything mattered far too much.

“Do you, ehm, still want me to take you to bed?”

All he could hear were waves. The entire ocean breathed in and out in the space between his question and her reply.

“Yes.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you lostinfic for the beta!

Hardy headed straight for the front door of the B&B after hearing her answer. He could sense her smile as he walked past, but he didn’t take time to admire it. He hoped to see it from an entirely different vantage point soon enough.

On the porch, he set down the luggage he’d been carrying and felt his pockets for the key. Empty. It wasn’t in the pockets of his coat, either. Frantic, he moved to check the many pouches of his duffel that was still slung over his shoulder.

Hannah joined him then, head tilted. She set her luggage on the bench under the window. He felt like he’d lose his mind if he didn’t find the bloody key.

Another pocket check came up empty. He swore under his breath, and glared upwards. Must’ve fallen out into the bloody cab.  _Fuck_. He rechecked the duffel, arm up to his elbow as he pushed around his belongings. He felt like a right bampot, all eager and embarrassed with this beautiful woman watching him.

“Can’t find—”

“It’s okay. They’ll be up soon to start breakfast. We can wait out here.”

“No. Haven’t you got one?”

“They only gave us one main key before we left.”

“Shit.”

It had to be there somewhere. Of course he’d lose the key at a time like this.

“Alec.”  She placed her hand on his arm, and stepped up to him. Her lips were parted, her eyelashes curving up as she looked down at his tie. He drew in a breath.

“Feels nice out here, doesn’t it?” She rested her hand on his chest.

He swallowed, and gave a delayed nod.

She took her bottom lip in her teeth, and her eyes slid up to meet his. “Nice enough to just…”

She lifted up on her toes, and brushed her nose along his chin, then her lips across his lips. He leant in for it, chasing her mouth, but she tilted her head away with a giggle. He grit his teeth and huffed.

She tugged at his tie, pulling his ear near her lips.

“No one will see us out here.”

“What’re you—”

She kissed his neck, sucked the flesh a little to make his eyes close. Despite his body’s insistence on the opposite, he didn’t want to do this out here. He wasn’t some brazen, horny twenty-year-old. Well, two out of three weren’t lies.

Hannah’s lips pressed to his jaw, and her hands reached into his coat to grasp his waist, pulling him against her warm body. On second thought, maybe it did make him feel young again. Maybe he felt like the farthest thing from a failure to have a woman so impatient to be with him that she’d risk getting caught. The duffel slipped down to his elbow as he reached for her.

“Then kiss me properly, would ya?”

Hannah smiled into the kiss as their lips finally met. Her hands swept through his hair, nails against his scalp. They laughed when their noses bumped; he forgot that he’d not done this in a long time. He felt clumsy and uncoordinated, but so exhilarated that he didn’t care. He shrugged the duffel from his arm, and it landed by his foot. One less obstacle in the way of engulfing her in his arms.

Their kiss grew more fevered as her tongue glanced against his. Her hair was soft between his fingers, and they chuckled between kisses when his sleeve button got caught momentarily in her little hoop earring. Once it was sorted, he cradled her face in his palm, and brought his lips down to her jaw, which made her suck in a breath.

Emboldened by that soft sound, he guided her to the wall beside the front door. The dull amber glow from the nearby window gave him a slight reoccurrence of hesitation, but then she tilted her hips as he moved between her thighs. Nothing could stop him now.

The porchlight snapped on, and the door handle jiggled.

Hardy practically lept back ten feet, breath ragged and jaw slack. He braced himself with a hand on the post by the stairs. Hannah straightened out her shirt and pushed away from the wall.

Mrs. Finn peered outside.

“Ah, hello Mr. Hardy, Ms. Baxter, uh…” She arched an eyebrow, seeing Hannah’s disheveled hair and rosy cheeks.

Warmth consumed Hardy’s skin, and he broke into a sweat. He’d done that to her. Made her breathless and flushed. He stammered some sort of reply, but didn’t quite get any words out.

“We must’ve left the key in the taxi,” Hannah said, pulling her bag back over her shoulder. “I’ll call the cab company and see if they can find it. Mind letting us in? We’re knackered from the long drive.”

“Um, yes, sure.”

“Cheers!”

Hannah brushed past Mrs. Finn and Hardy stalked after her.

He stalled at the top of the stairs. Hannah fished out her room key and unlocked the door. After tossing her stuff just inside, she turned to him and reached for the luggage of hers he’d been carrying.

“Coming in?”

“Erm, yeah.”

She smiled, her eyes full of promise. He followed her in and shut the door.

Once in her room, however, his nerves caught up with him. No, nervousness wasn’t quite it. He felt obsolete; a mess of a man, and he didn’t belong in here. Not that she was a paragon of stability—truly he had no idea what lay in her past beyond prostitution and a broken heart. She’d probably slept with men who could make her feel like the stars were hung in her name. He wasn’t exceptional in that regard. A damn good cop, maybe, headlines be damned, but not that great of a lover. His wife’s affair was a testament to that. He shifted and looked at the floor, no longer in the mood.

Hannah must have noticed his apprehension. She took his hand and tugged him over to sit next to her.

“Hey, something on your mind?”

He shrugged. This wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t do this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Even as he gathered the courage to reject what could be the best sex of his life, his stomach twisted with the want to stay with her. He felt stupid for not being able to make up his goddamn mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Wanna get some rest?” Her thumb slid over his as she squeezed his hand.

He looked her way at last. She had her head tilted towards her shoulder, a freckle there exposed by the draping neck of her t-shirt. It might’ve seemed alluring, that posture, but her eyes only held concern for him now. He felt himself relax in her understanding.

“Yeah, I think I’d just like to get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Hannah smiled, and leant in to kiss his cheek. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against hers.

“Did you—”

“But I want—”

“—want to sleep in here?”

“—could, uh—yes. I want to…” He inhaled through his nose. Her scent, her proximity, her soft voice, all made him feel mad for this sudden cold wash of unreadiness. “I’d like that. To stay, and, ehm…”

“Sleep.”

“Aye.”

He looked at her square, seeking out any hint of a microexpression that would allude to her utter disappointment in him. He only saw understanding, and perhaps a bit of fatigue. He yawned as a reflex.

Hannah yawned after him. “I’ll let you have the loo first.”

“Okay.”

They took turns preparing for bed, and by the time they’d settled under the mermaid blanket in their pyjamas, the room had begun to brighten with the first rays of morning sunlight.

She turned on her side to face him, and he did the same. They were quiet at first, their breathing lulled to the sound of ocean waves outside.

 

“You’re not upset?” he asked finally.

Her eyes searched his. “No.”

He arched an eyebrow, and she giggled against her pillow. “Well, maybe a little ah—frustrated. But not because of you.”

He felt a smile creep to his lips. “I’m fairly sure I’m the primary cause. I should know, ‘cos I’ve frustrated myself too.”

She ran the back of her fingers across his scruffy cheek, and her smile broadened.

“I like being with you. You make me feel like I’m…” she looked away instead of continuing, and then returned her gaze. “Yeah, I really wanted to shag, but it’s okay. Totally okay if you’re not up to it.”

“It’s not that I – that is I do want…” He rubbed his brow and sighed, rolling to his back. “Thanks.”

“Mmhm.”

He stared at the ceiling as she drifted off to sleep.

 

**

Hardy awoke a couple hours later to the sound of laughter downstairs. He squeezed his eyes shut, disorientated by the giant mermaid on the wall holding her breasts. Everything smelled like Hannah, and he groaned as a lazy sort of heat pooled in his groin. She was in his arms, her face against his chest, lightly snoring.

He remembered what she’d said before he rolled away from her earlier:  that she likes being with him, and he made her feel—something. He ran his hand through her hair as he became consumed with the need to know what she’d been about to say.

She stirred a little, and rolled to her back with her head turned away from him. His chest tightened from the loss of her embrace. The light from the window settled across her neck, making her hair glow golden. Her chest rose and fell with each steady breath. He wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss the path the sun had made down to her breasts.

“You can touch me,” she said.

His thoughts froze. When she said nothing else, he reckoned she’d said it in her sleep, and so he kept his hands unquestionably to himself.

Then she turned her face towards him, and her eyes were open. She smiled.

“Unless you don’t want to.”

The corner of Hardy’s mouth twitched.

“Nah.”

She pouted. “Fine.”

He placed his hand on her stomach, feeling her giggle under his palm. He kept it there, still and heavy for a moment, then at last ran his palm along her side, fingers barely grazing under the swell of her breast.

Hannah smiled and closed her eyes.

Watching her face, he moved his hand up to give her breast a gentle squeeze, thumb grazing over her nipple. She bit her lip and arched into his touch. Encouraged, he moved in to kiss her shoulder.  She sighed his name, and her thigh brushed his erection. He buried his face into her neck.

“M’ready now,” he mumbled to her hair. “I think.”

She turned to him fully and pulled him into her arms. She slung her leg over his, pressing herself against his length.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and let his hand rest on her hip. His finger slid under the hem of her pyjama shorts, massaging lazy circles.

“Sorry in advance.”

“Why?”

“You’re, ehm… an expert, you’ve mentioned. I’m, well. Divorced.”

She gave a wry smile. “Yeah. I’m an expert, not the men who come to me. Anyway, I’m here because I like you. When you touch me, I only want you to touch me more.”

He worked his jaw, not quite in suspicion, but more so astounded by the very notion. Her eyelashes fluttered as he slid his hand up under her shirt. He then dragged his fingers down over her bum, which he gave a squeeze. She rocked her hips, proving her point.

“See?” she said, gently pushing him over to his back and followed along so that she straddled him. She swiveled, grinding herself against his erection.

“God,” he said through gritted teeth. He held onto her thighs and stared up at her, arousal flashing through him, so powerful it took his breath away.

“Yeah, so don’t stop touching me,” she urged with her hands over his, coaxing them upward.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation left in him now. He slid his hands up, pushing her shirt with them. She helped him remove the garment, and he reached full hardness at the feel of her taut nipples under his palms. He wondered how he survived the removal of the rest of their clothes.

After she had the condom in place, he braced himself, anticipating his inability to hold it together. She was so warm, so slick, that he nearly lost it right from the start.

Hannah sensed his struggle. She kept still above him, her chest rising and falling steadily even as her legs trembled from the effort to stop herself. He laced their fingers together. She smiled, and he breathed. In and out. It was all he could do. As he felt the intensity abate at last, he moved his hips under her. She bit her lip, a little line forming between her brows.

They moved together at a languid pace, letting pleasure overtake them gradually, like the tide. It was exquisite, but it couldn’t last.  Soon they lost themselves to the building current, and he rolled over so he could drive into her. She urged him on, and found her release with his name on her lips. It only took another thrust for him to follow her under.

Afterward, she lay tangled in the sheets with a sleepy, sated smile. He moved the hair away from her face and kissed her head.

“I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll be back.”

“Mmm.”

He went to his room across the hall. After the shower, he slid into the wrinkled trousers and shirtsleeves that had been in his duffel, and scrutinized his reflection in the bathroom mirror. God, he looked like hell, but he felt better than he had in a decade.

When he returned to Hannah’s room, he heard her shower running, so he made the bed and opened the curtains on the window by the little breakfast table. Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating more mermaid kitsch than he thought was necessary in one room, even for a B&B.

The clock on the nightstand read 1:30 in the afternoon, so he went downstairs and prepared a tray of tea and biscuits. Upon returning, he set it on the table and opened the window to let in the peaceful sea breeze.

Hannah finally emerged, wrapped in a towel with her hair hanging wet down her shoulders.

“Oh! You read my mind.”

She plopped down across from him, and dove into the sleeve of biscuits. They let their legs touch, and smiled over the rims of their teacups. He could get used to this. Waking up with Hannah in his arms. Bringing her tea. It reminded him of years ago when his wife still loved him.

His chest tightened. All of his former melancholy crashed back over him, and the room became much too bright. He looked out of the window to temper his emotions. He noticed Hannah’s reflection in the glass, her eyebrows knit together and she bit her lip. He refocused beyond to the sky.

“I have to go up to Sandbrook for the weekend,” he said, glaring at a low-hanging cloud.

Hannah sat forward. “Oh? Why?”

“My ex-wife is getting married.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re not—”

“I’m not going, but Daisy –my daughter—she’ll be in for the wedding, and I haven’t seen her since she left for uni.” He looked up, recalling. “Almost a year now.”

“Oh.”

Hannah sat back in her chair. She fidgeted with the last half of a chocolate biscuit with her lips pursed. Hardy was about to ask what was wrong, when she shook it off and smiled.

“University. That’s when I started to—uh, look for alternate, eh… I mean, Sandbrook—where is that?”

He gave her a pointed look, but didn’t press. “A bit north of here. Do you maybe wanna come with me?”

“To visit your daughter?” She made a face, not even bothering to hide her shock.

His instinct was to defend himself, but then he realised that it would seem rather forward from her point of view. He hadn’t meant it anyway.

“Well, no. You can visit the shops downtown while I meet her, but I’d like your company otherwise. The ride, maybe dinner…”

Her posture relaxed, and she ran a hand through her hair. “Shall I pretend to be your girlfriend this time?”

He stared at her, unsure how to answer. All he could think over and over was how he didn’t want her to pretend. What they’d shared earlier was… incredible. Couldn’t possibly be the end of it.

She reached for his hand, tilting her head. “Just kidding. ‘Course I’ll come.”

He curled his fingers around hers. “I’m leaving on Friday.”

“I’ll pack a bag or four.”

He smiled. A proper smile, bourn of some rare, airy feeling in his chest.

She furrowed her brow. “Wait, you don’t want to ‘accidentally’ run into your ex-wife with me on your arm, do you?”

“What? No. Nothing like that. They shouldn’t even be in town. It’s happening an hour into the country at some medieval estate.”

Her features softened, and she leant towards him again at last. “Is that what was bothering you a moment ago?”

“What? When?”

She shrugged. “You seemed to get, I dunno…sad. Right before you mentioned going to Sandbrook. Is it the wedding?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

After a moment of hesitation, it was his turn to lean in. “If someone were to, ehm, spot us—“

She brightened. “Yeah?”

“On accident…”

“Of course.”

“They’d not recognise me anyway for the stupid grin on my face.”

Hannah laughed. “Oh, my god.”

He broke a biscuit in half, suddenly feeling preposterous. But it didn’t last long. Hannah stood, and beckoned him to join her on the bed, the towel dropping away from her naked form.

“Let’s watch telly and make love.”

He forgot about his cuppa, and would honestly marry her on the spot. If she asked.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to @lostinfic for the beta <3

The following day, Sunday, they both had work to do, but that didn’t stop them from remaining in each other’s orbit. Hardy spread several case files over his little writing desk to determine how to delegate them for the following day’s briefing. Meanwhile, Hannah sat on the window bench with her laptop, typing away. She’d told him that she wrote for an advice column for a popular sexual health blog under her pseudonym, and this week her editor had picked a couple of weird questions for her to answer. Hardy chuckled as he overheard her fussing with how to reply to people.

Sunday ended with her arm over his chest, and the work week began regardless of Hardy’s attempts to will it away. He sat back at his desk after briefing the constables and sergeants on the latest case, and looked over his calendar.

Nine weeks till the resident DI returned from maternity leave. Then he would be shuffled off to God knows where, or so he imagined. Hannah said she was leaving when they met, but she stayed. She also booked a client, which she then cancelled. There was no way in hell he was the only reason. But she touched him like he might’ve been. Her smile alone had found the one ember buried in the ashes of his heart.

Even so, he was reluctant to believe this was anything more than a pleasant interlude. A calm in the eye of the storm that was his disastrous life. Perhaps that was another reason why he overlooked her profession. Somewhere in his mind he knew it wouldn’t last, and he needn’t be concerned over it long term. He slid on his glasses and grabbed a case file, purging those thoughts from his mind with busywork.

When the workday was done, he returned to the B&B looking forward to seeing her. He reached the top of the stairs, and overheard her singing in her room across the hall. It was a happy pop song that he didn’t recognize, but she clearly enjoyed it. He unlocked his door and went inside to put his briefcase down and hang his mac. Her singing stopped, and her head popped out from her room. He’d left the door open, apparently.

“Let’s go for a walk and find a place to eat,” she called from across the hall

“Are you asking me on a date?”

She smiled. “Maybe. I’ll be ready in a second.”

Butterflies. Actual, proper butterflies just took flight in his stomach. He quickly changed into a clean shirt, and stared at his ties. He’d rather not wear one at all if they’d be out for a walk, but he loved the way she stroked it when she wanted to kiss him. Her door closed, lock clicking, as he slung a grey tie around his collar.

Hannah strode into his room wearing a flowing summer dress, her hair back in the fishtail plait. She went straight for his tie, grasping both ends and pulling him down for a kiss that lingered just long enough to make him too warm for his shirtsleeves.

“We’re not going for a hike in the woods, I take it,” he said as she knotted his tie for him.

“We can if you like.”

“Whatever you want.”

“I missed you all day.” She brushed her fingers along his fringe to move it from his eye. “And now you’re right here. What if I don’t want to go out anymore?”

He smiled a little. “I want to take you somewhere nice.”

She held her hand out for him, and he took it more firmly than he intended.

The air outside was sticky, even as the sun set. It made them appreciate the balmy sea breezes more when they passed through. Wrenmouth’s downtown area was a little larger than in Broadchurch, as was its port. Hardy and Hannah strolled along the shoppes, minding only their conversation and not much else.

They found an intimate brasserie just off the docks, and sat on the porch out back amidst the glow of candlelight and terracotta tiles. Water lapped at the pylons and posts below, making Hardy nervous.

“Want to sit inside?” Hannah asked, noticing his dubious glances towards the water.

“No, it’s fine.”

The waiter came and took their orders, and then left them to resume their conversation.

“What did you do all day?” Hardy asked. “Make your deadline?”

“Yes! Thank god. Then I got this interesting email. I’ve been fussing over how to respond all day.”

 “Was that before or after having a concert in your room?”

Hannah giggled. “Before. It’s… it’s a really enticing offer, but I’m not sure if I’ll take it.”

He looked at her, assuming she’d elaborate, but she just picked at her napkin and looked out over the water.

“Ehm, they wouldn’t have offered if you weren’t right for it.”

“They want me to be a lead consultant for a television programme that that the parent company is producing. It’s gonna be about an escort in London, based off of my books.”

“Wow. That’s—that’s—“

“Mad. I don’t want my life on the telly.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But the pay is so good. I could… I could retire.”

Their food arrived, and she shifted the conversation away from herself. He spoke a bit more about what had happened in Broadchurch, which wasn’t helping the mood at all.

“Sorry. This is depressing.”

Hannah patted the corners of her eyes with a napkin, and smiled a little. “It’s okay.”

“Why don’t you tell me about one of the questions you had to answer?”

“Oh my god. Well, it was from a woman who had a pee fetish and wasn’t sure how to bring it up to her girlfriend.”

Hardy nearly dropped his salad fork on the ground. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

When they returned to his seashell suite, his earlier worries about the ephemeral nature of their relationship resurfaced. She stood close to him, on the phone with someone who’d rang whilst they ascended the stairs. Tears swam in her eyes, but she held them back.

“You have some fucking nerve asking me this right now, Ben.”

Hardy sucked in a breath, and wandered away to let her finish the conversation.

“Just piss off. Lose my number while you’re at it!”

She slung her mobile to the striped accent chair nearby, and pressed her hands to her eyes.

Hardy went to her, and lightly touched her elbow. “I’ll fetch a glass of wine.”

Hannah sniffled, and exhaled before turning to him with a watery smile. “No.”

His brows furrowed in confusion and concern. She bit her lip, reached out and put her hand on his chest. Her thumb gently stroked his tie. They didn’t talk about it further, just grabbed each other in handfuls. He kissed her ribs, and the soft flesh of her thighs. Her exulted gasps and digging nails told him he’d found just the right way to make her feel better.

Afterwards, neither of them could sleep, although they had rested in silence for some time. He kissed the top of her head, and reached for the lamp. She turned to her stomach to read a magazine, whilst he watched the local news.

But he couldn’t focus on it. There was a desperation clawing at him, urging him to define his relationship with Hannah. The less time they had together, the longer he wanted it to last. An advert for herpes medication distracted his line of thought, however, and instead of asking what he really wanted to, he went for something else entirely.

“I’ve got a question.”

Hannah tucked her chin against her shoulder to look over at him.

“Probably too late, but, ehm.” He rubbed his eyebrow. “Given your, ah, career, should I—”

“I haven’t got herpes.”

“That’s—”

“Or anything else. I’m clean. It’s an obsession of mine, really. I go to the clinic regularly for STI check-ups. Never even been pregnant. Had a few scares, but turned out to be nothing. I chart ovulation and don’t schedule clients on the most likely days in addition to birth control and condoms. Those help with the STI bit too.”

He pulled a face. “Well, that’s, eh…”

“Partly why I’m so expensive.”

“Was gonna say _good to know_.”

“Oh. Yeah. Is that what you were gonna ask?”

It wasn’t, but now he felt too embarrassed to ask the other question, so he just went with it.

“It was, eh…mostly. It’s not my business if you’ve been pregnant.”

“Sorry. I overshare when I’m nervous.”

He turned to her and put the television on mute.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah.” She flipped a page.

“Wanna tell me?”

“It’s—” She put the magazine down. “You’re one of the first men I’ve… that’s known about me from the start. Other than, well. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you about that stuff sooner. I reckon I should’ve…”

“It’s not an easy subject to discuss.”

“Yeah, but—” She looked away, and her hair fell over her face to hide the little edge of sorrow in her eyes. He still noticed it, and went over his words to figure out what he could’ve said.

“Han?”

“Would you’ve asked me that if I weren’t a prozzie?” Her voice trembled. She twisted the sheet in her fingers.

His stomach sank. Should’ve just stuck with what he’d intended to ask. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. That was shite of me to assume—I mean, I could’ve just as easily had something.”

She looked at him again, but didn’t say more, just moved in to rest against his side. He ran his fingers up and down her arm, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her skin.

“I don’t by the way. Never been pregnant, either.”

She giggled, easing the tension.

“Bloody hell. Glad it wasn’t an advert for erectile dysfunction.”

“You don’t have a problem with that.”

He wanted to smirk with pride, but he was much more interested in her laughter. 

“There’s one for hemorrhoid cream now. Look at the poor sods.”

They both looked at the telly to see people attempting daily activities with marked, albeit comical, levels of distress.

“I don’t have those either,” he said.

Hannah burst into a full on fit of laughter. She put her hand over her face and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to stop.

“Oh, blimey, I needed that laugh.”

He smiled at her and turned off the telly just as an advert for heart medication began to air.

 

Half the week passed by, and though they kept their separate rooms, they spent much of their time together. Hardy could feel the gossip stirring about them, and deflected a firm side-eye from the owners.

On Thursday, the day before they were to head to Sandbrook, Ellie Miller stopped by the station for a visit.

Hardy handed her a mug of tea and went round to sit at his desk.

“Getting on all right?” he asked.

“Can’t complain. Though look at you,” she cocked her head. “You look, I dunno, tidy.”

He shuffled a few things around on his desk. “Ehm, well. What do you want?”

She rolled her eyes. “Still a prat. Good, wouldn’t know what to do with you if you weren’t. I’m here ‘cos they needed my testimony for that case. Thought I’d pop in.”

“Oh.”

“Also Wessex department has a new position for a chief inspector, and I put your name in.”

Hardy stared at her. “What?”

“You’ve still got to be appointed for the promotion, but I think you’re good for it.”

“Why don’t you?”

She nearly spat out her tea. “Me?”

“You’re better for it. You’ve got the proper experience, and you’re a bloody good detective. They don’t want me back there, anyway.”

“Aw, thanks. That’s kind, but I’ve got Fred to look after. I'd never be home!” She was quiet for a beat, and squinted at him. “What’s going on, Hardy?”

“What d’you mean?”

“You’re being nice and you look tidy. It’s the blonde from the café isn’t it?”

Hardy stared at her blankly.

“It is! Oh, god, Hardy, I didn’t think you had it in you!” She grinned, one of her bright-eyed, open-mouthed grins, and he wanted to dive out of the window in embarrassment. “Why don’t you bring her? It’s been a while since I’ve had guests over.”

“I’m going to Sandbrook.”

Ellie made a face. “What? Why the hell are you going there? Thought you were done with that place.”

“Tess is getting married.”

“Are you shitting me? You’re going to her wedding?”

His mouth twitched in a slight smirk. “No, just going to visit Daisy. She’ll be in town. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Ellie shifted in her seat. “Well, you could come tonight?”

“Isn’t that a bit short notice?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Not like I’m doing anything.” She looked away briefly.

Hardy felt a pang of guilt. What a terrible bloody friend he’d been. After all she went through, he should’ve kept in touch better. He rubbed his brow and sighed.

“All right. I’ll see if she wants to come, but I’ll be there either way.”


	11. Chapter 11

Hannah had seemed guarded when Hardy told her about the dinner at Miller’s house. He wondered if it was out of some sort of misplaced jealousy, or perhaps she thought it was too soon to introduce her to his friends. In the end, she agreed to go, and now they stood on Ellie’s doorstep waiting for her to answer.

There was a brief commotion inside—Fred getting into something whilst Ellie was cooking.

“Oh, she has children?” Hannah asked.

“Only one is small.”

The door finally opened, and Ellie’s smiling, slightly harried face beamed into view. “Hello, Hardy! And—what was your name?”

“Hannah,” she said, returning the smile. She held out a bottle of wine. “Wine for the hostess.”

“Oh, lovely! Thanks! What, no flowers and chocolates this time?” Ellie took the wine and stepped aside for them to enter.

“Er—I don’t—” Hannah began, confused.

Hardy gestured for Hannah to precede him inside, sighing.

Ellie’s home smelt of rosemary and garlic, with a hint of something charred. Fred squealed with delight in the other room. Little thumping footsteps and the sound of a laser toy followed.

“I hope you like lamb and potatoes,” Ellie said as she led them down the hall toward the kitchen. “The lamb might be a bit overdone. I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of—oof!”

Fred had run straight into her legs at the sight of Hardy and Hannah. He lowered the Buzz Lightyear blaster and burrowed his face against Ellie’s thigh.

“What is it, now? Oh, you’re not shy. You remember Hardy, don’t you?”

Hardy smiled down at the lad. “Hello.”

Fred held up the blaster, bashfulness now gone. “I’m fighting the space invaders!”

“Oh, how brave! Thanks for keeping us safe!” Hannah said, kneeling down with a cheesy grin.

Hardy regarded her with delighted curiosity as she pretended to spy an invader around the corner, which sent Fred off to investigate.

“Stay there!” he warned as he disappeared around the corner.

Hannah rose and bumped his shoulder at his bemused expression. “I’ve got a nephew ‘round the same age.”

“Ah.”

“Tom’ll be home soon to take Fred off our hands,” said Ellie, emerging from the kitchen. Her face was a little bit redder, and her hair a little more frazzled. “Was supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Can I help?” asked Hardy. He followed her back into the kitchen.

“No, I’ve got it. Go sit.”

There were pots everywhere, dishes overflowing from the sink, and half chopped onions and herbs on the counter. Fred’s partially eaten plate of food was still sitting on the kitchen table, and Ellie’s iPad was propped up to display a recipe for seared lamb chops.

Hardy stood next to Hannah, who seemed to be drawing a similar conclusion as her eyes swept around. Ellie needed help, whether or not she’d admit it.

“Would it upset her?” whispered Hannah, leaning in. He felt her fingers lightly slide into his hand and he grasped them.

“If we started helping?” He glanced at Hannah’s mouth distractedly.

“Yeah.”

“I made a salad for you,” Ellie announced. “You’re still on salads aren’t you? Oh shit, the beans!” She dove towards the stove where a pot of water began to boil over.

Hardy remained clear of her path, but wanted to help somehow. He noticed a mixing bowl on the counter with the masher sticking out of it, half melted butter and lumpy potatoes inside. Without asking, he went for it and began to mash.

“Stop, don’t do that. I’ve got it!” Ellie said, trying to swat him away. “Go sit with your girlfriend.”

“It’s no bother. We’re happy to help.” Hannah glided to the cabinet and took out a few wine glasses. “You really don’t need to go out of the way for us.”

“Aye, what she said,” agreed Hardy, still mashing away. A bit more vigorously now.

He turned slightly from them to hide his face. Ellie thought he and Hannah were…together. What’s more, Hannah hadn’t corrected her. Neither had he, and the seconds ticked on. Should he let it go? Did Hannah expect him to do the correcting? God, he was absolutely rubbish at this.

“Oh fine then.” Ellie sighed as she took the lamb from the oven and set the pan on the stove top. “Bloody internet said this recipe was easy.”

“Those recipes are written by people who’ve done it dozens of times. Here.” Hannah had opened the bottle of wine, and offered Ellie a rather generous portion.

“Oh, God bless you.” She took the wine and gave it a swig. “Anyway, it’s ready soon as you finish.” Ellie tipped her head to Hardy.

Tom arrived shortly thereafter, mumbling excuses about where he’d been. At last, he and Fred headed out to meet with Beth and Lizzie at the playground. The house now quiet, he three of them then gathered at the table for dinner.

All things considered, the meal was not terrible. A little over-seasoned and overdone, but still good.

“Sorry, the beans are salty,” Ellie said.

“Don’t worry about it,” replied Hardy.

“You’d think I could at least salt things properly.”

“Ellie, it’s fine.”

“They’re good with the potatoes,” offered Hannah. Which was true.

Joe had been a stay-at-home father, in charge of cooking every meal and cleaning the home. Now all of the household duties fell on Ellie’s shoulders. It didn’t help that Tom appeared to be distancing himself again. Hannah didn’t know the whole story, and Hardy did not feel this was the best time to explain. Either way, something else seemed to be bothering Ellie; she wasn’t typically _this_ self-deprecating.

“How’s Tom?” asked Hardy.

“He’s struggling, to be honest.” Ellie shook her head a little. “It’s not easy.”

“I can imagine.”

“Most people have calmed their shite, but the gossip lingers. It’ll be five years soon and they’re planning a memorial for Danny. I think it’s got him down.”

“Memorial?” asked Hannah.

Hardy and Miller exchanged a wary glance.

“I’ll ah, tell you later,” said Hardy.

“It’s okay.” Ellie took a breath. “The short of it is Tom’s best mate was killed by my now ex-husband, and it shook things up quite a bit around here.”

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” said Hannah after a brief stunned silence. “Is that how you two met?”

“Aye. I was hired, and my first case led to the discovery of the murder. Miller was my partner during the investigation.”

“And then we had to deal with the stupid sodding trial,” Ellie added.

“Bloody circus,” Hardy grumbled.

Hannah gazed at Ellie, a little worry line forming between her brows. “You mean you were investigating a murder your husband committed? That’s so—”

“We don’t have to talk about—” Hardy began.

“Fucked?” Ellie said with a scoff. “Yeah. Well, didn’t know at first.”

Ellie opened up quite a bit more about everything. Completely going against what Hardy expected. She told Hannah about the tide of suspicion that rose over Broadchurch, and the resulting fury at her over not knowing that her own husband was at fault. She mentioned scandal and humiliation without being specific, and when her story encroached on subjects that were too dark or too personal, she segued to Hardy’s Sandbrook investigation and how helping him solve it had kept her afloat.

Hardy could tell she just needed someone to listen; someone who knew no other version of the story but the one she could tell. He elaborated whenever he was asked, but for the most part he let Ellie steer the conversation.

In the end, Hannah put her hand near Ellie’s. “That sounds so horrible. Thank you for telling me.”

Ellie shifted in her seat, fighting her emotions, and then smiled at Hannah. “Enough about that though. What is it you do?”

Hannah took a large sip of wine before responding. “Ah—I’m a, a writer.”

“Oh! How lovely. What do you write?”

She held a slightly forced smile for a moment before answering. “Sex advice, and a little bit of fictional kink.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open and she grinned. “Oh, that’s something I hadn’t expected. No wonder Hardy likes you!”

Hardy rubbed his eyebrow with a sigh.

Hannah looked askance with an ill-concealed smirk, but smoothly turned the conversation away from herself. Within seconds, she and Ellie were chatting at length about a programme they both watched, whilst Hardy finished his plate in blessed silence.

Eventually, the conversation drifted ‘round to the chief inspector position at the Wessex department.

“Have you given any more thought to it, Hardy?” Ellie asked. “When did you say DI Garrison would be back?”

“Ehm, had a busy afternoon.” He took a sip of wine. “It is tempting.” He paused. “Don’t you think they’d have a problem with, you know.” He gestured vaguely towards his chest, implying how he’d hid his heart condition to his superiors in the past.

“Might do, but you’d have my recommendation. Might have to answer about that ‘worst cop in Britain’ headline, though,” she said with a teasing laugh.

Hardy scowled. “Don’t remind me.”

“Then there’s that accusation about us that still manages to haunt me.” Ellie squinted at him. “Are you still on some sort of probation? Worried they’ll do some vetting?”

“Probation will end once DI Garrison returns. I’ve already passed the medical examination. Anyway, I still think you should have it.”

“You see how much of a disaster I am right now. Could you imagine if I had to work even more?”

“We had Tess’s mother to help us. Is there anyone…?”

“You seriously think I should?”

He put down his glass as he finished off his wine. “Aye.”

“Maybe I’ll think on it.” She grinned at him, but it slipped a little. “Oh, that’s right. What am I on about, you hate it here.”

Hardy snorted. “They hate _me_ here just the same.”

Ellie laughed. “My sister doesn’t. She fancied you a little.”

“Ugh.” He could’ve gone his whole life without knowing that.

“You’d be my boss again, though, that might put you off more than the nosey neighbours.” She put her napkin down as she finished up her meal. “Anyway, just thought you’d like something permanent. You’ve been drifting ‘round ever since you left Sandbrook. It’s a bit sad.”

He furrowed his brow at how her words resonated with him. He needed to find something secure, and it was the kind of career advancement that had interested him in the past. Though, not so soon—he loved detective work. And not in bloody south England. But in a way, it was an ideal path being handed to him on a silver platter. He glanced at Hannah, who had grown very quiet. She prodded a bit at her half-eaten potatoes.

“That’s why it’s tempting. The stability,” Hardy said, watching Hannah but speaking to Ellie. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it though. I hate sitting at a bloody desk and the higher up you get, the more you do it.”

Ellie scrunched her nose. “Oh, right. That’s true. Well, if I have a go for it, you could be DI again.”

“Excuse me,” Hannah said softly. She stood and left the room. Soon after, they heard the front door open and close.

Ellie looked puzzled. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, go find out!”

Hardy hesitated. “She, ehm, might be having a fag.”

“Oh.” Ellie’s eyebrow went up. “Didn’t think you liked being around that.”

“I don’t.” He paused, then quickly added. “She doesn’t smoke often.”

Well, he’d only seen her smoke twice before. Once when she was bored out of her mind, and the other she was distraught over Ben.

Ellie rolled her eyes, and stood to begin cleaning up the table. “I’ve had too much wine to fight you over helping me clean, so get to it.”

Hardy rose to help without complaint, rolling up his shirtsleeves. After washing several dishes and Hannah still hadn’t returned, he began to truly worry. He dried his hands on a towel, and went to the door just in time to see her coming back inside.

“All right?” he asked. Her hair was a little wind-blown, and she had a faraway look in her eyes.

She reached up and gently took his face in her hands. He leaned towards her, and his eyes slid shut as her lips met his. Her kiss was tender, lingering, and her thumb brushed over his cheekbone in a manner that made his heart soar. When they parted, he stared at her, but her eyes wouldn’t meet his. Her hands slid down his biceps and over his exposed forearms. Warmth bloomed along his skin in the wake of her touch, but he couldn’t fight the sensation that something was very wrong.

“Let’s finish helping her,” she said softly, and she let him go to head for the kitchen.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @lostinfic for the beta. <3

Hardy spent the entire cab ride home with his heart on a wire as Hannah stared quietly out of the window. A number of questions fought to be asked, but he didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin. He tried to focus his thoughts on practical things. The job opportunity, and the stability it offered. His plans with Daisy the following day. How Tess could be the one who fucked up everything, yet she’s the one who gets the rewards. Well, two out of three weren’t unreasonable.

When they arrived at the B&B, Hannah went straight upstairs to her door. Hardy followed, keeping a little distance. Giving her space. She began to unlock her door without a word.

“Hannah?”

She went still. After a breath, she looked up at him, and her eyes filled with tears.

The world tilted around him. “What’s the ma—”

“Do you think things are going too fast?” she blurted. “Between us.”

His mouth opened and closed stupidly. He stared at her, so blindsided that his body went numb.

“Clearly you do,” he said at last.

Her gaze fell. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

“In that case, we’d better put a stop to it.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!”

“What the hell are you saying, then?” He put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight. “What the hell’s happening?”

“I just think—”

“Shhh!”

They both looked to see the guest in the seahorse room sticking his head out with his finger against his lips.

“Sorry,” Hannah muttered.

Hardy nodded toward her room. “Let’s talk inside.” Not the most neutral of locations, but it would have to do.

She entered, and he followed. The room was dark and quiet, even more so once she shut the door. He tugged at his ear as he tried to let the sound of the ocean calm him down, but all it did was remind him of almost drowning.

She turned to face him, though kept her eyes downcast.

“Is this over?” he said.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Are you bored of me already?”

“No! God, stop guessing. Just—give me a second.” She rubbed her temple.

He folded his arms, waiting.

She sniffled and drew in a deep breath. “Alec, you can’t associate with someone like me. It’s—it’s not right.”

 For the first time, he hated the sound of his name on her lips. “Which is it? Are we going too fast, or we can’t be together because you’ve been a prostitute?”

“You mean I _am_ a prostitute.” She flashed a glare at him.

He frowned deeper. “That clears things up.”

“See? You already can’t stand it. And the whole conversation earlier made me realise how little we know about each other. Hearing Ellie talk about a scandal, and your Sandbrook case…something with your ex-wife. Then the job for the Wessex police.”

“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” he parroted, blood boiling. “Fuck. I suppose I’m going to Sandbrook alone tomorrow, then?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t throw that back in my face! And yeah, maybe you should.”

“You wanna know what happened? My ex-wife had an affair. She bloody ruined everything. Key evidence was stolen so she could have a quick shag with him, and I took the blame for it so our daughter wouldn’t see her mother on television for cocking up a high profile case. Do I need to keep going?”

Hannah sat down under the weight of her emotions. She shielded her face with a hand over her brow.

“God’s sake,” he said with a frustrated sigh. Too exasperated to show her sympathy.

“That only proves my point.” Her voice trembled. “If you get that job, I’ll want to be there with you. People will see us, and remember whatever animosity they had against you. This is a small town, and like Ellie said, people gossip. Someone will wonder who I am, and they’ll find out _what_ I am.”

“How could they find out? Have you been arrested? You said you were careful. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Hannah wiped her eyes, and regarded him sincerely. “There was a copper—not a client, but had been briefly. He tracked me down and… became aggressive towards me when I wanted to stop. Threatened me for sex, made me feel—” She choked up on her words, and buried her face in her hands.

Hardy moved closer to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. His anger shifted away from her and onto this dirty copper in an instant.

“Found out he was doing it to others when a detective showed up on my doorstep asking questions. I had to testify against him, and the trial’s public record. They tried to keep my identity hidden, but reporters could find out anything if they need it.”

“Is that how you ended up here?”

She shrugged, and shook her head non-committedly. “Partly. I just needed to get away from it. And Ben, and everything else. I get so sick of living two lives. The blog is nice, because I can be Belle without sacrificing Hannah. I can shut my laptop after I’ve written, and I can be Hannah without sacrificing Belle.”

“Belle,” he said, just to hear the sound of it. It was the first time he’d heard the name of her alternate identity. “It suits you.”

She smiled despite her obvious distress. “See? They’ll raise a scandal against you, and you’ll be fucked all over again. I can’t let that happen to you. And don’t you dare tell Ellie. I don’t want her dragged into this. It’s not fair after all she’s been through.”

Hardy gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream and make her see that this was outrageous. He hadn’t even agreed to try for the bloody job. Nothing came though, instead his chest just ached. He reached for her helplessly, and she grasped his hand in hers.

“It’s better if I just take that writing job in London. You can find stability here. You’ve got a lovely friend, and the perfect job opportunity. It’s best for your relationship with Daisy, too.” Hannah said softly, threading their fingers.

“Come here,” he said. She moved over to sit next to him and he pulled her in with an arm around her shoulders.

“Maybe things have gone a little fast, but it doesn’t mean it has to be over.” He rubbed her back soothingly.

She chuckled a little and burrowed her face into his shoulder.

“What?”

“Just realised something I said.”

“Hmm?”

“I said that I’ll want to be with you if you get the job.”

“What’s funny about that?”

She shifted a little and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Because I realised I’ll want to be with you at the same time I’m telling you we should part ways, and the thought of not even trying... I tend to not realise something like that till I’ve already done the damage.”

“Ah. Personal growth.”

“Something like that.”

He wrapped both of his arms around her and kissed her head. His eyes closed as the scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and he rested his cheek on her crown. She clung to him in return, with her hand clutching his waist.

It was his turn to chuckle.

“What’s funny?”

“Well, for starters, you seem to’ve spent far more time than I have thinking about this job opportunity of mine. Already fearing the worst possible thing will happen, in fact.”

“Oh. Well, that’s me.”

“I might not even get it. Might not want it. Think they wanna see my ugly mug around there again?”

“Wait till Ellie is chief inspector and she can appoint you.”

“Hannah…” He sighed. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

Her arms tightened around him, and he smiled.

“No. You’re a keeper,” she said. “I’m just not sure if I am.”

“Let me be the judge of that, aye?”

“Aye,” she repeated with a giggle.

His hand found her face, and he lifted her chin to look up at him. When her eyes met his, he slid his hand up to cradle her cheek.

“Let’s just go one step at a time. I need more time to think about this job, and you’ve got your own opportunity to consider. I’ll head to Sandbrook in the morning on my own, so that’ll give us time to reflect on all of this.”

She nodded, and he let his hand move to her hair, running the soft strands between his fingers.

“Stay here tonight,” she said, looking down at his lips.

“I hoped you’d suggest that.”

“All along?”

He tried not to react, but his mouth quirked regardless. Her shoulders relaxed. They gazed at each other as their faces drifted closer. Her eyes fluttered shut; she tilted up her chin. In the brief moment before he gave in, he noticed how the moonlight illuminated his favourite parts of her: her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

Then he kissed her, bypassing tenderness and going straight for needy. She chased his tongue with hers. He pulled her closer. Her leg slid over his lap, and the remnants of rage and hurt they’d felt earlier transformed into passion.

There were obstacles between them, no doubt, but she made him feel wanted in ways that had eluded him for years. Partly his own bloody fault, that. Still. He could be happy with her, and maybe everything else would fall into place around that.


	13. Chapter 13

Hardy arrived in Sandbrook and checked into the hotel where he’d stay the night. Daisy would meet him in the lobby in an hour, so he decided to take a brief kip. He hadn’t slept very much last night, after all.

But he couldn’t rest. Instead he stared at the starkness of the room. Furniture devoid of tacky ocean-themed embellishments he’d gotten used to at the B&B. The furniture knobs were ordinary. No frog figurines made of cockles stared at him from the dresser. He sort of missed being surrounded by sea shells.

No, that’s not what he missed. He missed the scent of coconut sun cream and that nebulous floral aroma of her hair. Her skin, soft to his rough hands. He missed the press of her lips on his flesh, anywhere and everywhere. He’d never had a lover like her, and he never would again.

The memory of her enveloped him like a cocoon, and naturally his body reacted. She’d have noticed from across the room with her back turned. Like his desire for her permeated the air, and she couldn’t ignore it. He imagined her coquettish smile as she sauntered towards him to perch between his legs.

But his thoughts shifted quite abruptly, and instead they were lying together, his arms around her and her back pressed to his chest. He relaxed to the soft sounds of her sleeping, and felt her languid stretch when he woke her with a whisper to her ear. Sometimes he preferred these moments above all others.

_I’ve got to head out._

She’d held his arms tightly in protest.

_No. Already?_

A yawn welled up, and the memory retreated. The clock on the nightstand read 12:45 PM. He sat up, head hazy as though filled with seafoam, and headed down to the lobby. There was tea left over from the complimentary breakfast. It enticed him, but Daisy arrived before he could help himself.

“Hi Dad,” she said, hugging him around the middle. Without fail, she was a child again, squeezing his legs, her jeans stained with dirt and her ponytail askew. He blinked and she was a young woman once more. Beautiful and bright. Staring at her mobile. It seemed to be the kind of day that memories would drift in like apparitions.

“Hungry?”

“God, starving.” She slid her mobile into her back pocket.

“How’s your mother?" 

“Driving me mad. She forgot till this morning that she needs gifts for the bridesmaids, so I have to get those. Someplace called _Anita’s Attic._ ”

“Why do you have to?”

“Maid of honour,” she said, gesturing to herself.

To avoid blatantly rolling his eyes, Hardy looked over her head toward where the concierge was helping newly arriving guests.

It would’ve destroyed him at one time, the thought of his daughter playing such a prominent role in his ex-wife’s wedding. He envisioned her standing up there in a lovely dress holding the bouquet whilst her mother kissed another man. Instead it just irritated him. Irritated him for Daisy’s sake as well. How did she feel about it? Did Tess ever consider it? Given her track record, probably not.

“I’ll take you there after we get something to eat.”

“Thanks.” Her shoulders relaxed.

He put his arm around her, and guided her to the exit.

They left for a sandwich shop he’d been fond of whilst living here, though back then he’d mostly eaten at his desk. They chatted about her life in New York City over tea and shared a baguette bursting with tomatoes, lettuce, and cheese. Her eyes lit up as she spoke of her new friends and the quirky American things that had endeared her to the place.

“And there’s so much to do at night!”

“There’s stuff to do here at night,” he defended. _Safer here, too._ Maybe his presumptions about New York were inaccurately based on television, but some of it had to be true.

“Yeah, but it’s like bookshops and things. The pubs here are all filled with ol—with mums and dads.”

Hardy made a face. “What is it you want to do? You’re not old enough to drink there.”

“Dad, it’s not like that.” She rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh, to which he gave her a deadpan look.

But he should’ve known. She was a good kid, doing her best in a different country. Studying her brains out, hanging out with friends when she could. Of course she kept safe. He worried too much, she said, but he couldn’t help it. His little girl was an ocean away.

“You’d love it there, dad.”

“I had my fill when seeing you off. It smelt god awful.”

Daisy laughed. “But no, listen. It’s nice. You get to go out and never feel alone. But if you want to be alone, nobody bothers you. People just get on with things, know what I mean? Nobody cares what’s happened to you, except the people you want to care...”

She sobered, and picked at a bit of crust. He tilted his head. When did she start sounding like him? 

“All right, darling?”

She looked away, to the window. He saw turmoil there, buried in her youthful features. She blinked it away, and smiled at him. His heart tightened with guilt that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent her being affected in some way by everything that had happened. No matter how hard he tried. He made to reach for her hand, but she moved to slip her purse over her shoulder.

“Anyway, I hope _Anita’s Attic_ has the bloody things she’s looking for,” she said. “Some kind of infinity necklace.”

_Just as long as she doesn’t leave them in the car._

The mental quip surprisingly didn’t come from a place of bitterness, but one of humour. A dark sort, he supposed, but it brought out a rare chuckle. Thankfully, Daisy didn’t ask.

They left for the novelty gift shop. The little bell rang over the door as they entered, and Daisy headed straight for the counter to ask after the necklaces. Hardy had a look around in the meantime. He’d never been here before, never had a reason to. There were all kinds of tawdry items littering the shelves. Porcelain figures holding numbers to mark the age progression of a child. Assorted bags with hideous patterns. Stuffed animals, greeting cards, jewelry, handmade things like soap and candles from local vendors.

Then he found something that piqued his curiosity. A display shelf of knitted items, along with corresponding patterns in case you wanted to have a go at it yourself. There were typical things you’d expect to be knit, like caps and scarves. Ridiculous things as well. A cape. Trousers. A superhero mask.

None of that was what caught his attention. It was the mermaid tail, with a rather impressive blue and green scale pattern. He imagined Hannah wearing it, laughing her arse off but enjoying every second of it. He had to buy it for her.

He folded it up and brought it to the counter, where Daisy was finalising her purchases. She glanced at the fairly obvious mermaid fin and her eyebrows went up.

“Dating a mermaid?” the shopkeeper asked as she searched for the price on the knitted tail.

The room warmed up by about fifty degrees, and he had the urge to run no less than ten miles away. But despite all that, he felt… _good_. In a ‘ _someone assumed I’m capable of having a girlfriend_ ’ sort of way.

“Erm. She... complains about the cold.”

Daisy gave a little knowing smile as she watched him pay for the mermaid tail.

“So you’re not denying that you have a girlfriend,” Daisy hedged. “Or is that for you?”

Hardy scowled, and muttered a thank you as he was handed the bag. Why hadn’t he thought about coming back later to buy the bloody thing? Probably because he never wanted to step foot in this shop again.

Once he and Daisy were outside under the turquoise and white striped awning, he exhaled at last. “Don’t speak to anyone about this.” He rubbed his forehead to assuage the pin-sharp ache that had emerged from all the scented candles.

“What, that you fancy a mermaid?”

He lifted the bag, indicating its contents. Daisy giggled.

“The film starts in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Sure we’ll have time?”

She glanced at her mobile and sent a text or two before responding. “Yes, rehearsal doesn’t start till six.”

“Then you’d better show up at five.”

Daisy laughed. He couldn’t tell if she laughed at him or at her texts. “Mum says hi.”

“Let’s go.”

Hardy returned to his hotel room after riding with her in a cab to the rehearsal location. He tossed the bag to the bed and just stood there like a lone matchstick in an empty box. He thought he’d be too drained to head back to the B&B. Dread had been his passenger the entire way to Sandbrook, but it had actually been an enjoyable day.

He fished his mobile from his pocket, and sought Hannah’s number in his contacts. She smiled up at him from her photo, a dot of toothpaste on her nose. She’d taken it herself one morning after a fit of laughter.

_This is so you’ll always be in a good mood when you phone me, even if you weren’t before._

He smiled, and pressed the call button. It rang a few times, then went to her answerphone. Daisy had told him that people hate it when you leave messages, so he hung up and began to compose a text instead.

Before he could get halfway through, she rang.

“Hello, Hannah,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

_“Hey, sorry. How are things?”_

She sounded quiet, and a little tremor of worry went through him. “Good. Had a great time.”

_“Yeah?”_

“She had a lot to say about New York.”

_“Sooo many shops, god. I had such a great time there, except when—well, never mind. But she’s gotta love it.”_

The fondness in her tone made his heart twist. 

“I miss you.”

_She hummed. “Miss you too. Come back to me.”_

“I dunno. It’s a long drive back and I don’t want to sleep in a car,” he lied. He planned on calling a cab the moment he hung up.

 _“Oh.”_ There was a long pause. _“I bet there’s more to do where you are.”_

“A bit more, yeah. A cinema, for instance. Saw _Zootopia_ with Daisy.” Brought back memories of taking her to see other _Disney_ films when she was a wee lass, that.

_“Oh, how fun! You might not ever wanna leave.”_

“You’ll have to send my things by post.”

She made an amused sort of sound. _“Didn’t you bring everything with you?”_

He sensed an ulterior motive to her teasing. He knew how to lead someone on to get the information he wanted. But he hoped to surprise her, so he did his best not to show his hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, serious. “I’ve got to go, need to phone someone.”

Silence.  _“All right.”_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to lostinfic for the beta as always. <3
> 
> Warning in this chapter for angst, and cancer prognosis.

_Earlier the same day._

I stay in bed till noon, long after Alec had gone. He said we should spend the day in reflection. For me, that tends to mean _do everything possible except reflect_. Avoidance impedes progress, and so I end up worrying about the same things all over again. I had valid points about why I couldn’t go with him to Broadchurch if he took that job, and I’m not gonna dismiss them because he kissed me till I forgot we are ephemeral.

So I wrap myself up in his absence. Try to familiarize myself with it for when the time comes, because it will. Eventually the lustre will wear off, and he’ll realise he’s been sleeping with a whore. You see, this sort of thing doesn’t last. I’ve already started planning my re-entrance strategy, because I know what I’m good at, and I’m not good at this.

I nuzzle into his pillow, and the memory of last night coaxes a grin despite my melancholy. The scent of him lingers like a happy phantom. I can’t help it. He smells like devotion, and thoughtful silences, and tenderness. Of things unhidden. All those things I don’t deserve, and that’s why I’ve fallen so hard, so fast. He’s not keeping parts of himself from me that I wouldn’t want to know.

Okay, I don’t know everything, but I can tell. He’s a good man, the kind of man who wouldn’t pay for sex. The kind of man who’d tear himself apart to make our love work—at least that’s what I’d like to think. But men wounded by infidelity, they don’t fully recover. His heart would collapse if he spent longer than half a second picturing me fucking someone else. Well, I can’t have that. I can’t have someone in shreds under my feet, not anymore.

So, I should go. Let him move on to someone who’s skin hasn’t felt the touch of a thousand men before him. I’ve done it before, so it’s familiar territory. As much as I crave a deeper connection, at the end of the day I just want to buy clothes and have brilliant sex. I’d’ve shagged almost everyone in this house out of sheer boredom if he hadn’t come along.

“Jesus Christ, I’m such a bitch.”

I roll over and stare at the exposed beams above me. A tin mermaid dangles from the ceiling fan. She sways from the momentum of the swirling blades, and there’s that rhythmic creak along with it that you only notice in dead silence. Like a clock ticking away. The room itself has grown impatient with me.

Listen to me. I came to this sodding place to figure out a new path, not to keep going straight down the same old one. What do I do instead? I fall in love. But it’s so good to be in love. The world slows down, and the universe revolves around the both of you till one of you turns out to be a terrible shit. That’s my experience, anyway. And as I’ve already pointed out—he’s the good one.

When I face the future, I can’t see much beyond the glare of the sun. There’s a crossroads in the haze, but neither path beckons me. Neither stirs that ancient _knowing_ in my soul that people claim to experience. I’m daft for ever thinking I could figure it out, even in this faraway place.

Don't laugh, but I’m envisioning this like those guided meditations tell you to. (There are loads of books like that downstairs). Even in my imagination I just stand there not wanting to move. But when I stop fussing over whether there’s a tree or a stream and let my thoughts wander, Alec stands there with me. Looks at me as though I make things like pathways and crossroads cease to matter. I take his hand and lead him into the wilderness.  

But if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll accept that job in Broadchurch. He’ll realise he’s got a family there; people who look to him for support and reassurance. He’ll make them feel safe and they’ll make him feel needed. He couldn’t do that in London. He’d just be another frequency in all the noise. Would he want that? I can’t imagine he would. _But god, do I want him to._

I hear a voice say: Don’t forget the wedding.

Why? I don’t want to know right now. _(What if I’ve made him realise that he still loves her? It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me)_.

I try to read a book to keep myself from crying, but it’s a love story and he’s on every page. The words blur together through my tears, so I give up on the book, take a shower, get dressed for the day, and have a cigarette by the open window.

He left a tie on the floor by the dresser. I remember taking it off, how he gazed at me as I slid the cheap grey fabric from the knot, dragged my hand down its length till—

I should go down and have something to eat. Get my mind out of the gutter, and then what I really want to do with all this rumination is toss it out in favour of a good shopping spree. Big surprise, I know. But I’ve burnt out on Wrenmouth. Broadchurch is smaller, but they must have a little shoe boutique. Nothing would make me feel better.

My ears full of surf, I sit down before the mirror and put on lipstick. Halfway across the top lip, I’m Belle again.

 _You’re a ruin._ I mouth to myself. My other self— the one that went away with a stain of red.

_He’s not your mason. He’s not there to pick up each stone and pave it back together._

“I know,” I say, and regard Belle in the mirror with a confident smile. “He’d say he’s a ruin too, and I’d say let’s rebuild ourselves as neighbours. If you need any stones, I’ve got some to spare.”

I swear I’m not mad, but I think I’m on my way there after everything that’s happened. Ben would say I’m just being overdramatic. I am overdramatic! (Fuck Ben).

I stand from the vanity and go downstairs to find someone who’d be willing to give me a lift. The surfer boy is unsurprisingly eager to oblige. He runs his hand through his long hair and gives me a smile that might’ve had my knickers wet in the past, but it does nothing for me today.

He’s called Adam, and he doesn’t put on a shirt the entire drive. He talks about how he plans on taking a trip to Hawaii in January when the swells are highest. I do not give a toss about surf culture, but he gave me a free ride, and I know how to appear impressed. He hopes I’ll kiss him when he pulls up to the curb, but I don’t.

People stare at me as I walk along the main road of Broadchurch. It’s not the obvious kind of stare, but I know it all the same. The sideways glances, pretend stretches, attention averted just as eye contact is made. It’s like my first few days in Wrenmouth all over again. While I enjoy the attention, I don’t quite like to be a spectacle. I’ve got on a short summer dress. A bit vintage, but it’s not why they’re staring. I’m unfamiliar. A delicious, blank canvas for their speculation.

I drift in and out of the shops along the main road; none of them hold anything of interest. I’m already tired of cheery conversations ebbing to silence as I walk past. Of course they all know each other - know everything about each other. This is not a place I could live out my days.

I walk past the police station, and that’s about when I realise the blatant hypocrisy in being here. Ellie Miller picks up her pace, and greets me with a smile.

“Hannah!”

“Hello.” I smile and lift up my sunglasses.

We chat. It’s small talk, but I don’t mind. She’s earnestly kind, so it doesn’t feel superficial. It makes me miss friendship. A sort of platonic companion that’s just as important as any lover.  She tosses a disparaging remark about Hardy being in Sandbrook, which evokes a question that pops from my mouth before I can stopper it.

“Do you think he’ll go to the wedding? He said he wasn’t, but what if…”

“Hope not, but I can picture him sliding in at the last minute and sitting in the back pew,” Ellie says.

I look away, and she tries to reassure me that he’s honest. But will it make him miss family? Miss marriage? There are people all around us, and I just know someone will probably ask Ellie about me, and now you see why I shouldn’t have come here. I want to tell her not to tell anyone who I am, but I don’t want to raise her suspicions. Instead, I perk up and turn the conversation back to her.

I take a cab back to the B&B after that, and I’m halfway there when my dad phones me. I know it’s serious when I hear his voice crack. The biopsy results are in, and the cancer has spread to her lymph. It’s aggressive, and treatment must begin straight away.

It’s so strange when you hear news like this. You sort of feel like gravity has stopped working and you’re floating up into space, but somehow still attached to the ground at the same time. Stretched and inflated, too diffused to feel your own emotions. I told him I love him, and that I’ll be back in London soon.

It’s not until I finish packing up my things that I let myself cry. My tears are less for my mother’s current condition, and more for our brittle relationship. I’m a child again, and I have everything a child could want, except her warmth. She’d given it all to my father and my sister, so by the time I came around she had very little left. I know she loves me—she worries over me all the time, but there has always been this distance between us.

At some point I fall asleep, and by the time I awaken, the room is dark. My mobile rings from somewhere amid the tangled duvet. It goes to my answer phone before I can rescue it.

Alec’s number glows on the screen. I hold my mobile against my chest and let a tide of emotion rise and fall before I ring him back.

“ _Hello, Hannah_ ,” he says.

“Hey, sorry. How are things?”

_“Good. Had a great time.”_

“Yeah?” Did you go to the wedding? I bit down the question.

_“She had a lot to say about New York.”_

Oh! Daisy. I smile, reminiscing.  “Sooo many shops, god. I had such a great time there, except when—well, never mind. But she’s gotta love it.”

_“I miss you.”_

If this were a 60s sitcom, I'd be dreamily twirling the phone cord in my fingers. “Miss you too. Come back to me.”

 _“I dunno. It’s a long drive back and I don’t want to sleep in a car_ ,” he says. He doesn't really sound disappointed.

We banter a bit, and I still can't tell whether my worries about his stay in Sandbrook are legitimate. So what if he decided to show up at the wedding? He’s allowed to change his mind. So what if he still has feelings for her? He also has feelings for me; I shouldn’t expect to be prioritised.

(My eyes sting all the same).

 _“I’ll see you tomorrow_ ,” he says, serious. “ _I’ve got to go, need to phone someone.”_

I zone out for a moment as my mind inexplicably wanders to the meditative path.

“All right,” I say at last. I now know which way I need to go.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this brings the story to a close. <3 Thank you @lostinfic for all of your wonderful feedback and support for this story. Thank you all for reading and your thoughtful, encouraging words.

Hardy arrived at the Seafern well after midnight. The cab drove off,and he stood outside in the quiet pre-dawn, just listening. To what--he wasn’t sure. The sea, the breeze through the marram grass, his own breathing. It all sounded the same after a time.

He turned his gaze to the window of Hannah’s room. It was dark, but she likely had not yet fallen asleep. His stomach lurched from nervous energy. Get a bloody grip. _You’re not proposing to her; just giving her a present._ A massively absurd present.

He walked up to the front porch and let himself in, then returned the key to the lockbox at the check-in counter. Movement from the kitchen drew his attention. Mrs. Fern rounded the corner, harried and tired.

“Oh, Mr. Hardy, hello.”

“You’re up late.”

“There was a musician after supper. Had a bit of a knees up, you know how it goes.” She smiled through her fatigue. “Your friend is out on the beach by the way. Do you two ever sleep?”

Hardy cut a glance to the back door. “Doesn’t seem that way.” He smiled a little. “Do you want help?”

“Oh, no, I’m finished now. Had to prep for breakfast so I can sleep in a bit. Lock the door on your way in.” She yawned as she ascended the stairs.

Hardy set his bags down by the back door, and slipped outside where the sound of the ocean breeze was amplified. Insects and frogs joined the din, but none of it could drown out the noise of his own mind. Why had she come out here so late? She seemed sullen, or distant on the phone. What could’ve happened in a day?

He walked down the stairs and through the footpath that led to the sand, scanning the shore for her shape.The moon above wore a shroud of wispy clouds that faded into darkness beyond its halo of light. Didn’t help much to illuminate his search.

At last he found her in silhouette, close to the water’s edge. Her hair was loose, and a shawl draped over her shoulders swayed against her thighs. It took a moment to realise he had stopped in his tracks, captivated by everything around him. The endless arc of night sky. The ever-churning waves. Hannah in the centre of it all.

He moved towards her, and as he closed the distance saw that she stood ankle-deep in the unfurling waves. Every time the rushing water spread out over the sand behind her, towards him, his heart gave a slight jolt. Didn’t matter that it was shallow. In the darkness it all felt fathomless.

Hannah had not noticed him yet, but now he had stopped for an entirely different reason. He closed his eyes before the sea could come alive and pull him asunder, but it was too late. His breath quickened. Dread overcame him, and intrusive thoughts of Hannah sinking into the watery blackness, of carrying a lifeless, partially decomposed child through a lake, kept him anchored to the spot.

“Han--” His voice broke. He clenched his fists and forced his eyes open.

She turned slightly to check over her shoulder, and then faced him.

“Alec…?”

He hadn’t time to answer before she darted towards him like the release of an elastic band. The resonant fears faded to echoes with the shift of his focus to her swift approach. Her arms sank into his jacket, wrapping around his body underneath, tighter than ever. He staggered back to absorb the momentum, but managed to keep his footing. She pressed her face to his chest with words that he couldn’t discern over the waves. Or perhaps it was the blood rushing in his ears. 

He held her like a life raft, rested his cheek on her head, and felt her sag against him.  Her warmth and her steady breathing eased him down from the escalation of dread his thoughts had brought on. His eyes drifted shut. He’d hold her as long as she wanted, even if the tide crept up to their knees.

After a time, she finally loosened her arms and looked up at him. She said nothing, just searched his face with a little quizzical line between her brows.

“Surprise,” he said.

Hannah smiled, though her eyes were puffy and listless. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

He tilted his head. “What happened?”

She looked down, her smile gone. She withdrew her arms from around him, but kept her hands hooked onto his waist. “I have to go back to London. Tomorrow morning.”

He drew in a breath and released it slowly. An ache grew in the pit of his stomach; he knew this day would come eventually. Over her shoulder, a large wave broke against the shore, and another, and another still. The wake of a boat, most likely. A light skated out of sight in the distance to confirm his assumption. It was sort of like this moment--the light she brought to his world slipping away. When did his life turn into a story, complete with cliche metaphors? She squeezed his waist to draw his attention back to her.

“I’m sorry. Anyway, I can’t afford to stay here anymore.” Her voice trembled and she looked away to fight tears. “Then there’s mum, she’s--”

He peered through the darkness at her features, both angular and soft in the faint moonlight. Once she overcame a surge of emotion, he took her hand. “Let’s talk inside.” 

She gave a nod, and he kept his arm around her as they walked to the house. Hannah paused by the outdoor faucet to wash the sand from her feet. He tapped his shoe against the base of the porch to do the same.

Once inside, Hardy grabbed the bags he’d left there. It felt inappropriate to give the mermaid tail to her now, so he just kept silent as they walked through the dark house and up the stairs.

Hannah reached the top before him. As he fished around for the room key, she fixed the hair over his ear with a brush of her fingertips. He shivered, and swayed into her caress. Little touches like that--familiar, casual, but no less intimate--were the kind he missed the most. The kind he craved. And the fact that Hannah was the one to provide them, well, he’d do just about anything to remain worthy of it.

He closed the door once they’d entered, and she pulled him right in for a kiss. The shawl fell away from her bare arms as they wound around his shoulders. He made a noise of surprise, caught a bit off guard by her zeal, but swiftly came to speed. He dropped his bags by the bed so he could pull her flush against his body.

He bowed towards her as they kissed so she needn't rise upon her toes, and she answered with an even deeper kiss. Her fingers dug into his back. His slid up to cradle her face. At some point his suit jacket joined her shawl on the floor.

He was blissfully lost to her, to every stroke of her tongue against his, and every rake of her fingers through his hair. A tear slipped along the seam where his thumb rested against her cheek. Tenderness surged through him, and his touches grew softer, but no less eager.

At last they pulled apart for a series of languid kisses that warmed his skin and turned his brain into a mass of effervescent tingles. He heard her breath hitch, followed by a sniffle. Their foreheads met, and he swore he could feel her thoughts. _You’re here. You’re here for me when I need you._

Or, perhaps they were his own.

“Mum’s cancer has spread,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

She embraced him, and then fell into a long stretch of silence. Her ear pressed against his heart. Her body relaxed further, and her breath slowed. Imagine, listening to his shoddy heart could make such a thing happen. After a time, she let him go and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve decided to take that telly writing job in London. I dunno, maybe i’ll be rubbish at it, but I’ve got to try. Either way I can’t stay here anymore, but… but I don’t want to leave you. I think that scares me more than anything else.”

He stood awkwardly on the spot, unsure if he should join her, or if she needed space. Everything he thought to do, everything he thought to say was either too profuse or too trite to his own mind. A memory surfaced of Ellie scolding him for his ‘ _shitty platitudes_.’ And so at the risk of either coming on too strong, or not strong enough, he remained silent.

“I know you have to stay.” She straightened a snag in the drape of her shirt as she spoke, eyes averted from him. “I wouldn’t expect you to come with me.”

There was an unspoken ‘unless you want to’ in the way she met his gaze ever so briefly after that. She picked at a loose thread on the shell-covered quilt, bit the inside of her cheek, bounced her leg. He took a gamble and sat next to her at last.

Hardy drew in a breath, and exhaled through his nose. “I have to figure out what I’m to do once the resident DI returns from maternity. Three months left, unless she requests more time. That happens.”

Hannah worried her lip, and looked at him. Her eyes had grown so big and hopeful that he seriously considered an immediate resignation, but he had to be reasonable about this.

“Until then, I have to stay,” he added. “They’ve given me a stipend for this place.”

“Right. But, um, what about the--”

“I’m going to ignore that job offer in Broadchurch, if that’s where you’re going next. Though I wouldn’t hesitate if Miller ever needs my help for anything.” He looked up at the shell-filled lamp on the dresser.

“Of course.”

“I have no one in Sandbrook,” he continued. “No reason to go back there.”

She put her hand on his knee. “Visit me in London in the meantime. Take a weekend. I’ll meet you halfway in a marsh somewhere if I have to. Please?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “A marsh? You fancy me that much?”

Hannah laughed. “More than.” 

There wasn’t a time in recent memory that he’d grinned so stupidly. Her eagerness to keep him--him--in her life was a mystery, but he would revel in it all the same.

“I’d rather we met in a dry, open field, but aye.”

Her little sigh of relief astounded him further. She took his hand and pressed her cheek against it. “So that’s a yes?”

He nodded as he brushed his knuckles along her jaw. “Oh.” He turned on the lamp by the bed. “I have something for you.”

“Yeah?”

He reached for the gift bag nearby, and hesitated, staring at the logo of the shop on its plastic surface. This would seal his fate as either the most ridiculous or the most thoughtful man in existence. He’d settle for a bit of each, as long as it made her smile. Finally, he offered it to her, and she dove into opening it with a grin and a curious glint in her eyes.

She pulled out the waist section of the mermaid tail, her expression shifting to bewilderment. “Um…” She drew it out all the way, and gave a huge gasp as she held it up in the lamplight. “What on earth!”

“I pictured you lying around reading books with it on.”

“Is that all?” She winked at him, and he put a hand over his face, overcome with a rare boyish shyness. Truthfully, he had no idea what she was suggesting.

She slipped her legs into it and fell back on the bed in a fit of laughter. “Oh my god, it’s hysterical!”

“I’m glad you see the humour in it.” He rubbed the back of his head.

She raised her legs so she could flip the fin to and fro, then stretched out on his bed. “Was that your intention?”

“Possibly. I, ehm… hope it’s not--that is, I--” He sighed. “It was a spontaneous purchase.”

She smiled and grabbed his tie to pull him to her. “It’s daft and I love it to bits.”

“Good, I can’t return it.” He admired her smile before closing the distance with a kiss.

Her lips brushed his as she whispered, “I’m so glad I stayed.”

“Were you going to leave tonight?”

“No. I mean in the first place.” She touched his face, slid her fingers along his bearded cheek. “I was gonna leave, remember?”

“So it was because of me.” He grinned. Her answering laugh set off butterflies in his stomach.

“At the time I really needed a good shag, and you looked like you needed one too.”

“I could use one right now.”

Hannah flipped her fin in his direction, thwacking him playfully on the arse. “Have a thing for mermaids do you?”

Spurred into action by her teasing tone, he straddled her yarn-shrouded legs and dove in to kiss her neck. She only laughed harder and rolled her head to the side so he had plenty of space to run more kisses and nibbles down her throat to her shoulder. When he reached her collarbone, he lifted his head to look her in the eyes, but she had closed them in bliss.

“No, just you,” he said softly.

“Mmm, I knew it. You’re only after a piece of my tail.”

He snorted. “Stop. That’s bloody awful.”

She peered up at him through her lashes, smile now verging on sultry. The look was somewhere between adoration and desire, and he had the overwhelming urge to tip the balance toward the latter. Keeping himself poised above her, he picked up where he left off--the little dip at the base of her neck. He kissed his way down to her chest where her vest top stretched over the rise of her breasts, and paused.

Hannah slid her hands around his waist to pull him down, but he resisted. After another attempt failed, she gave up and let her hands fall on the bed by her face.

“Tease.” Her lip poked out in a mock pout.

That got her a smile, but he remained quiet. He held her gaze as he brushed his thumb in a lazy, aimless path along the side of her breast. Inching closer, but never touching where he wanted to most. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Emboldened, he tugged aside the neckline of her vest to place open-mouthed kisses between her breasts. The taste of her skin, salty from the seaspray, would surely become one of those nostalgic flavours embedded in his sensory memory. Would that be the only part of her that remained with him after tonight? He suppressed a sharp jolt of sorrow that became lodged in his throat.

He blinked and focused on her face to ground him in the present. She had her lip in her teeth, and coaxed him on with a slight arch of her back. His hand had stilled on her breast in the momentary lapse of ardour. A worry line formed between her brows, and he gave her breast a squeeze, not wanting her to know his thoughts had taken him off track. Her relieved sigh warmed the blood in his veins.

Hardy slid his hand down to her hip, and dipped his fingers beneath the bottom of her vest top. Soft cotton met his knuckles as he skimmed his palm over her stomach. The pads of his fingers grazed her hip bone and up along her ribs, spreading gooseflesh over her skin. A golden glow from the lamp highlighted the dips and curves of her now exposed abdomen, which pulled in with her every inhalation. He moved off of her so that he could kiss the soft part of her belly, and tugged the mermaid tail down, enabling him to kiss lower and lower as his hand inched higher and higher.

But just as his hand neared her breasts, he withdrew it, and positioned himself over her once more. She arched under him in a feeble attempt to bring some part of herself into contact with his body. She grabbed at his tie and squeezed his bum.

“Kiss me,” she said with a hint of desperation. “Need to feel you.”

He bent downward, fixated on her sweet mouth. She angled her head to accept his kiss, but at the faintest brush of her lips against his, he moved away. She craned her neck to chase him, and he opened his mouth as if to relent, but moved away yet again at the mingling of their breath.

He felt her hips swivel ever so slightly between his knees, so he parted his legs, further out of her reach. She whinged, breath quickening the longer he held out.

It wasn’t really the sort of thing he’d ever set out to do before, this playful withholding. But he’d be a bloody fool if he didn’t acknowledge the thrill it gave him to have such an effect on her, especially if the increased discomfort in his trousers had anything to say about it.

He traced his finger along the skin at the neckline of her vest to resume the aimless pathway to her nipple. She drew in a shaky breath. She might’ve said please, but he was preoccupied so he wasn’t too certain. His fingertips traveled closer, circling the little nub. It puckered under the thin lavender cotton, and it took all of his will not to capture it in his mouth. Given that he was not exactly sure what had come over him, and he certainly wasn’t some kind of bloody Casanova, he immediately lost focus and gave in to the temptation straight away.

After a few firm licks, he sucked her nipple into his mouth. The vest didn’t taste great, but that hardly mattered. He grazed the hardened peak with his teeth, and flicked it with his tongue. Apparently that was her cue to come apart at the seams. She rocked her hips, rubbed her thighs together, seeking out any source of friction she could find. His propped arm began to shake with the effort to hold himself up as she grasped at him eagerly. He moved to the other breast to give it the same attention, and her legs squirmed, trapped in the net of knit scales.

He finally looked up to admire the pink of her areolas showing through the soaked fabric. She grinned through her stupor, watching him.

“You perv.”

He balked. Of course he found her beautiful, but her body wasn’t there for him to admire for his own benefit. He began to stammer an apology, when she rocked her hips between his thighs.

“I’m joking, please don’t stop.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all.” She slid her hand down his back, and around to find him straining against the front of his trousers. “Are you?” 

He held his breath and nodded.

“That’s no good.” Her lip tugged into a pout, and she rubbed her palm against his erection. He groaned helplessly. She pulled down the zip, and he buried his face in her neck as she reached within and gave him a few soft strokes. He involuntarily thrust against her hand, needing more. She turned to nip at his ear before whispering.

“Is that better?”

The tables had been turned faster than the hammering of his pulse. How did she do it? He didn’t really want to think about that much further at the moment. He grunted a reply, and moved to kneel on the floor so he could pull the bloody mermaid tail off of her legs. She propped up on her elbows and smiled down to him, conjuring a memory of the very first night she had entered his room.

He tugged at the dainty material of her pyjama shorts. “Did you get ready for bed and decide, naw I don’t want to be comfortable and warm under the quilt, I’d rather go wade in the bloody ocean?”

She laughed. “Shut up. Why aren’t you fucking me yet?”

“Was that begging? I think you just begged.”

“You’re insufferable,” she said with a smile.

He moved between her knees, and brushed kisses along the suntanned skin of her thigh. Her muscles flexed under his mouth. His hands came to rest at her ankles, where he caressed her skin softly. The bed gave a small bounce as she fell back against it.

From his vantage point, he could see the seam of the pyjama shorts snug between her legs. He liked his lips, quite unknowingly, and moved up so he could rub his thumb along that seam. She keened loudly, and lifted her hips off the bed at his touch.

“Oh god!”

His jaw tightened from the heat that radiated there. He did it again, this time stroking upward with a bit more pressure. She whimpered and tossed her head to the side. Rutted herself against his hand. Mumbled encouragements. Whilst he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to letting it go on for a bit longer, he wouldn’t be able to do so without pleasuring himself to relieve the maddening build of arousal. And then that’d be the end of it, so that wouldn’t do.

Slowly, he pulled the pyjama shorts down her hips and thighs, and tossed it aside. She took advantage of her freedom to fish around for a condom. He loosened his tie and yanked it off, and she helped him make short work of his shirt buttons and trousers. They shared a quick kiss, before he nudged her back to the bed.

As he climbed atop her once more, he trailed his hands up her thighs and over her hips, along her ribs and upward until he cupped her face. She stared up at him, catching his gaze with hers. The warmth and openness he found there brought the entire world to an abrupt stop. Everything went still save for their breathing.

Against all odds, he had opened his heart again. Nothing else mattered in this moment more than the need for her to know how he felt. Especially since tomorrow, she would be…

His heart sank. He hadn’t noticed before now that there were faint smudges of mascara at the corners of her eyes. It looked as though she’d attempted to scrub it off, but hadn’t been able to entirely. He brushed the tear stain with this thumb. How could he lose her so soon? They could visit each other, but would it happen? Would they be swept apart by distance and busy lives? She seemed to sense his shift in mood, for her eyes softened and she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Hey, come back to me,” she said.

“I promise.”

She smiled with tears in her eyes. “No, I mean…” Her words trailed off and she lifted up to kiss him. He returned the kiss, felt her legs slide around his waist, her heat pressing against his erection. She rolled her hips as her lips traveled down his neck and across his shoulder, the gorgeous, slick friction bringing him back to full hardness. Within moments he titled his hips so he could slide fully inside of her.

Hannah’s head fell back and she moaned. The sound of it sparked an electric jolt that sank through his stomach and made him thrust harder. It felt so fantastic that his kisses lost aim and all he could do was fist the quilt to keep himself from flying apart. She dragged her nails up and down his back, urging him on with her soft gasps. Her hips met his every thrust, and her breath began to shake.

Sensing she was close, he eased his white-knuckle grip of the quilt and sought out her breast. He wanted to use his mouth, but he was too bloody tall to reach it and keep the momentum of his thrusts. His fingers would have to do. He swept his thumb over her nipple and rolled it between her fingers. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her moans had quieted to a series of faint, trembling affirmations. He kissed her neck and pinched her nipple, and it was just enough to tip her over the edge at last.

She bowed her back and cried out, and that was about as much as he witnessed before his own intense climax took him over. He fell to the side so he wouldn’t collapse on top of her, and she rolled with him, breath hitching with every little aftershock. They lay there in silence as their breathing slowed, wrapped around each other in a haze of bliss.

The following morning, Hardy awoke to find her back curled against his chest. He pulled her closer and kissed her shoulder. She stirred and gave a happy sigh, but didn’t awaken. He settled back to his pillow, and focused, like a guided meditation, on how she felt in his arms. Soft to the brush of his fingers, warm against his body, sticky where their skin had been touching for a time. And above all of that, loved.

///

_Six months later_

Sometimes you meet a person where you least expect to, when you least want to. They come in like a wave, and smooth out the rough edges. Quench every thirst. Then they leave, drawn back into the ocean forever.

I didn't think I was capable of feeling like I never wanted to leave someone. But a week went by without him. Then another. And another. A month, then two. All that time slipping by and I never stopped missing him. Through my mother's treatments, through the demands of my new job, through the clients ringing me in hopes I'll make my bed available to them. My heart remained in the Seafern, tucked inside a seashell in his room.

A difficult case had landed on his desk, and it took all of his focus. He’d been specifically chosen to help solve it and wouldn’t let anyone down, naturally. Of course I had understood, but I’m greedy. I missed the tenderness and devotion in his touch. I hated the weariness in his voice when we exchanged late night chats. My house had never felt so huge and empty.

At last we met. He came to me, and then two weeks later I went to him. Both of us were so worn and stressed that it went by like a fever dream. In the past, it would’ve been too much. I’d have given up and phoned one of my old standby clients, but it never even crossed my mind. Video chat helped. You should see the massive load of texts we exchanged. 

Now he sits across from me at the breakfast table, sipping tea, brow furrowed as he studies the contents of a thick file. It’s his first week on the force a couple of boroughs over, and he’s coming up to speed on a few open cases. He’s wearing glasses, his tie is loose, and the sun from the window nearby brings out his freckles and the golden brown of his eyes. I shift in my seat, no longer paying attention to my book. 

Reaching out, I caress his forearm. It's hard to resist when his shirtsleeves are rolled up like that. A smile surfaces on his face, yet he never once looks up from his task. It feels so domestic, but not at all like settling. Maybe we're forever, maybe not. I can't worry about that, because either way we're inevitable. 


End file.
